


Distant Horizons

by TheReluctantBadger



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, Mild Gore, Romance, Sailing, Slow Burn, West of Westeros, convince me otherwise, he was on the frickin' boat, if this is the ending we're given, we might as well make it work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 49,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19775809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantBadger/pseuds/TheReluctantBadger
Summary: Arya Stark survived. Despite all the odds, against all hope of ever returning from the destruction, she now stands on the edge of a new future. But now that she faces a life she thought for sure would end, how does she live it? How can she ever be at home in a land with so much pain and loss? She can't.Finding a new adventure, her mind is set on sailing towards the west. But will the west be so different than the world she left behind?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me if the summary sounds so cheesy. I suck a summaries. And it's been literally years since I've written a fic. But I do hope you like this one! A warning, it'll be a bit of a slow burn at first, but things will happen! And I rated it as such because I plan on having some good stuff tucked away for later... Updates should come pretty regularly, but life always happens, so please be patient if it's not very regular. Comment any suggestions or criticism! I take both very well.
> 
> And now, without further delay, my new baby.

Evening shadows began to drop softly over Kings Landing. People were turning to retreat into their homes, what people and homes were left. But there were more in King’s Landing than there had been. And more would surely come; which was the exact reason why Arya Stark walked these streets on this night. 

No one knew she had left the Red Keep, save for maybe Bran. He always seemed to know things. But if he did know, he had made no move to have her stopped. And so, on she walked. Her boots hardly even stirred up the heavy dust and ash which still blanketed the ground. She wound through alleys and sideroads, keeping to the shadows. At one turn she startled a stray cat, sending it clamoring into the darkness at her sudden approach. But her gaze never wavered. Her path led her deep into the heart of the city, mostly past and through rubble, but the occasional window was lit where people had found fit to reestablish their lives. 

‘How would any wish to still live here? This is a city of death.’

She knew Death. She knew him as intimately as she had once known her own father. But though she still had no fear of him, she had been given a new Gift, once much greater than even he could ever give. She had been given the Gift of Life. And she would be damned if she wasted it in this broken land.

The sound of laughter and soft music began to grow louder in her ears, as did the smell of salt in her nose. The docks were near, as was her destination. Rounding a crumbled mass, she stepped into the soft glow of a tavern’s front. Patrons were just beginning to make their way through it’s doors, the setting sun promising an evening of escape. A quick glance at the sign overhead confirmed that she had the right tavern. She had asked around. Done her checking. She was sure this one would accept the offer.

The Lion and Kitten seemed to have been as hastily constructed as humanly possible, walls looking as though they would fall in from a good strong sneeze; obviously erected in attempt to begin bringing in coin as soon as possible. Arya found it surprisingly easy to slip in it’s door without so much as a second glance from those who surrounded her. The majority of them only had eyes for ale, bets, whores, or a happy combination of the three. Finding the inside filled with mostly sailors and dock workers further confirmed that she had, in fact, reached her desired destination. Pausing by the door to glance around the room, Arya found herself taking inventory of every head. Quick eyes darted from face to face, reading each blink, each sniffle. She saw them all. She felt them all in her mind. Amidst all the movement and noise, she became a silent watcher. Finally, her eyes fell on their intended target. Slouched at a table near the fire sat a young woman, tankard in hand as she looked tiredly into the fire. Arya stepped through the small crowd, deft feet leading her around tables and between groups until she was sitting across from the woman. 

The woman took in a deep breath before taking an even deeper drink from her tankard. Her eyes never left the fire.

“You’re Wren.” Arya stated leaning back in her chair.

Wren nodded, finally lifting her eyes to look over at her new companion. “And you’re the insane one.”

“Not insane. Just curious.”

Wren snorted, turning her eyes back to the fire. “Curious people look on the beach for interesting shells. Insane people want to sail for the edge of the world.”

“Maybe.” Arya smirked. Her grey eyes still bored into the face of the other woman. Her simple tunic was sleeveless, showing faded tattoos on both muscular arms. Dark brown hair was pulled back into a long braid that touched the waistline of her pants. Everything about her announced a seasoned sailor. “But you agreed to meet me. So what does that make you?”

“Desperate.” Was the simple reply.

“You lost your ship to the dragon.” Arya stated calmly.

“Took that bucket between Essos and the Summer Isles more times than I care to count.” Wren sighed before taking another gulp of her drink. “Skirted around the Smoking Sea twice. That pay was particularly high, though. Boat wasn’t even mine to begin with; got The Big Boar from a guy in Gull Town for letting him suck on my boot while a whore got him off. No way I can ever afford a new ship before I’m too old to sail it.”

“I’ll be providing a ship. And whatever pay you require.”

Wren continued to stare into the fire even when Arya placed a moderately sized coin purse on the table. The sailor's was gaze deep enough that she may as well have been wishing the fire to jump out and incinerate her. 

“You’ll get to hand pick our crew as well, and operate as my first mate.” Arya added, cocking her head, seeing if that would change the outcome.  
It did. Wren closed her eyes and dropped her head to her chest. If it had been anyone else watching her, they would have thought she had fallen asleep. But Arya watched the woman’s chest rise and fall and waited patiently while she thought.

Finally, her eyes opened, and head rose. “Fine. My brother and I will get your crew. Where’s the ship?”

“Being completed in the dry docks. Should be ready next moon.”

Wren nodded, sitting up and turning to Arya as she extended a hand across the table. “Then I’ll meet you here next moon, Stark.”

A wide smile crossed Arya’s face as she took Wren’s hand, a strong shake sealing the deal.


	2. What's Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who commented! It means so much to hear that other's enjoy this scenario as much as myself! I know the chapters seem short here at the beginning, but I promise they'll get longer.
> 
> I've also edited the first chapter slightly. A couple of people pointed out a few plot points that I forgot to expound in, so those have been fixed.

Arya stood behind Bran on the steps as they watched Sansa's carriage pull way from the Red Keep. Joining the new queen was all of the Northmen who had joined her south, plus any who were left from the group Jon had brought. They were all returning home, this time to stay. The sisters had hugged and Sansa had kissed both of her cheeks multiple times. She tearfully told Arya that she would always be welcome when she returned, and Arya wanted desperately to promise her that she would. But she couldn't. So she swallowed the large lump that was forming in her throat and gripped onto the back of Bran's wheelchair tighter, stamping down the deep desire to run after her sister and join her on the journey home. _'No. I've made the choice. This can't be home anymore.'_ she shouted in her head.

She knew in her heart that Sansa would be a good queen. That was what she had always been destined for; Arya could tell. The north would love her and Sansa would be happy. Maybe that's why Arya decided to leave after all. Sansa was ruling the north, surrounded by their kin, Jon was returning to the wall where he would have the wildlings, Ghost, and what was left of the Night's Watch, and Bran was now King Brandon of the Six Kingdoms with Ser Brienne and her Kingsguard to see to him. Her job was done here. Her pack was safe. She was no longer needed.

"I think I'll sit on the east balcony for a bit before lunch. The one that faces the water." Bran finally announced, breaking the long silence. "Would you join me?"

Arya spoke no reply, but nodded, turned his chair, and began to push it through the halls and corridors of the keep. Workers were slowly making progress and it would not be long before things started to return to normal. Ramps were being taken into consideration in the construction, so the pair ran into very little trouble as they trekked through. Soon they were on the large balcony. The sun was approaching it's apex in the sky, but there were still plenty clouds, and a gentle breeze was blowing in off of the water. Arya took her seat in a chair near to Bran's. They kept the easy silence for several minuets, both content in their thoughts. If they had much in common before, they had one more thing in common now, a tendency to slip into quiet observation.

It was Arya who finally spoke first. "They're nearly finished cleaning the Godswood."

"Yes. They're sending down a Weirwood sapling to plant." Bran smiled warmly.

"Will it grow this far south?"

"It wouldn't have before. But it will now. I'll help it." was his simple reply.

Her next question was quieter. "Are there any Weirwoods in the west?"

"No."

She would have thought him to be sad to give that response, but his face showed only respect and fondness as he continued. "The Old Gods do not hold the west. It does belong to their kin, though. They will be the ones watching for you. I will follow you for as long as I'm able, sister, but should you reach their shores, I will bow out to them."

Arya nodded and looked down at her boots. For a moment she thought they would settle back into another easy silence, until Bran spoke up.

"You think you have to go away, but you're not sure."

"No, I'm sure." Arya corrected him. "It's the best for everyone."

"Not everyone." he replied, turning his head to give her a look that she could only describe as sympathy. "There's someone who still needs you."

Gendry. The name jumped into her mind before she could stop it and she quickly shoved it back out.

She didn't even try to deny who he spoke of, though. She knew better by now with Bran. "He doesn't. He'll do fine. He'll be a good Lord."

Arya couldn't help but note the small smirk that came to Bran's face as he turned his piercing gaze back out onto the open water. She hoped that that would be the end of the topic and began to make a move to rise from her chair. She had preparations to oversee. Preparations that would surely occupy her mind. Her ship was nearly finished. But before she could leave, Bran spoke once more. "The wolf hunts the stag, and the stag lowers it's antlers to strike. But both would fade without the other."

********** ~~~~~~~~~~**********

Another week passed, and the ship was finally ready. She had met twice more with Wren, who managed to assemble a crew of twenty to man the vessel. Arya figured that they all were men who had nothing to loose by sailing into unknown waters. After the Battle for the Dawn there had been many lords and ladies who sent her gifts and coin, thinking that buying her favor would progress them in some way. Even after Bran took the crown, there still came the occasional "tribute to her bravery". All together, it had been just enough to build the ship, stock it in provisions, and promise the crew a handsome salary. 

West of Westeros. So many had pondered what lay across that uncharted sea, and even fewer had dared to attempt the voyage. Only one party had ever returned, and even they hadn't gone as far as there was. She may not ever return to Westeros, but she knew what all it held. There was no mystery left. Now she would know what else the world held. And if the gods saw it fit to return her to Westeros, then others could know as well.

She paced through her room until long past sunset, glancing around her to ensure that everything of importance was packed away. Simple clothes and linens were in one wooden chest, and maps and blank parchments were in another. Samwell had nearly lost himself when she asked him to supply her with navigation and cartography tools. He had also gifted her with several blank journals in which to record a log of her findings. Arya knew how much the gentle man meant to Jon, and she promised wholeheartedly that she would make her records as detailed as possible. Plans had been made to sail at first light, early enough that she wouldn't have to say anymore goodbyes. It would be easier.

Finally feeling the pull of fatigue on her body, she sat down in front of the fireplace and poked at the small flames that danced in it. Winter had come, but it's harsh chill was still weaker here in the south than summer had been in the north. A small fire was all she needed. Pulling her knees to her chest, she allowed her mind and body to ease, her guard gently falling away.

Unbidden, her thoughts wandered away from the Red Keep and out into the Storm Lands. He had looked nice at the council meeting, every bit the young eager lord. She very nearly walked over to tell him so. But every time their eyes met, she could only remember how his looked on that night when she turned him away.

She suddenly felt herself wishing very much that she was right in what she told Bran, that he would be a good lord. _'Why wouldn't he? He's not afraid of work, and he's protective. He'll care about his people and not just his comfort.'_ And then a quieter thought. _'He'll find a good Lady to help him, too.'_

Her eyes slipped closed and her head dropped to her knees. Long ago she had wanted to be his family. She would have kicked and screamed until her mother and Robb had given him a position in the forge, where she could bother him everyday and make him so mad he yelled. It had been fun making him yell. She liked watching his forehead tighten and jaw clench. But his jaw had also clenched that night...

She cursed herself for letting her thoughts go back to Winterfell, but they felt so pleasant on her mind. Frozen death had circled around them, but together they were fire and life. Her hands that had ended so many lives had caused him to moan in pleasure and sigh her name; and his that could so easily bend metal to his will had drawn such beautiful feelings from her depths. She felt so powerful against his skin. She could have taken on the God of Death himself when they had finished and collapsed against each other.

 _'No.'_ She clenched her eyes tighter, chasing the images away. She could never be his Lady. She would only disappoint. That wasn't her. Paths were set. He had his place now; and she needed to become No One once more. _'Gods, this would all be so much easier if I was No One...'_

The small fire died down to warm embers as the hours ticked on. Arya finally settled into a restless sleep in what felt like a much too large bed. Outside her window lay the sharp black sky, stars scattered like freckles on it's broad face. Ravens rustled on their perches in the rookery with heads under wing. Down below, a large black cat stalked an unsuspecting mouse through the stables. A drunken soldier stumbled his way back to the barracks, pants barely pulled on right, as he passed by a cook who had just woken to bake the bread. And in a darkened room, another soul was packing his bags.


	3. Good Omens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm actually a little more excited to be writing this than I was at the beginning. Mainly because you guys have already been so awesome in supporting this fic! I'm so stoked to be taking this adventure with y'all! And secondly, because a few years ago I actually did a lot of research in nautical customs and sailing practices for another writing project, so I'll be drawing from that to include now that the ship has sailed!  
> As it seems, there really isn't a lot about the ship that Arya takes west. After watching the few shots seen in the show, it looks to be a double-masted "caravel" type ship, so that's what I'll be using for reference.(incase anyone is interested)
> 
> Again, thanks so much for the awesome comments! I do my best to reply, but forgive me if I don't always get around to it.

_Manifest of The Dreamfyre_

_Voyage of Year 304 AC_

Destination: _Exploration of Sunset Sea_

Cargo: _provisions for travel_

Souls on Board:

_Arya Stark – Owner & Captain _

_Wren of Seagard – First Mate_

_Korin of Seagard – Boatswain and Navigator_

_Aegon Stone – acolyte/healer_

_Nester Wylde – roper_

_Potter of Duskendale – cook_

_Ralph Waters – cabin boy_

_Quint Waters – cabin boy_

_Edd of Gultown – sailor_

_Lorin Rivers - sailor_

_Tom of Maidenpool – sailor_

_Cole of Kings Landing – sailor_

_Daemon of Tumbleton – sailor_

_Willis of Kings Landing - sailor_

_Marsh Rivers – sailor_

_Oren of Kings Landing – sailor_

_Sal of Wickendon – sailor_

_Edd of Maidenpool – rigger_

_Bern of Rosby – rigger_

_Bull Waters – smith & carpenter_

********~~~~~~~~********

The sun rose on a dull, grey morning to find Arya Stark entering the cabin of her ship. Arya could hardly wrap her mind around it. Her ship. It was all really happening. She was leaving Westeros for the world beyond. She hadn’t been so sure at the beginning, but it was beginning to feel right now that she had let her mind get used to it. Carefully, she checked Needle. It was sharp and secure in her scabbard. Next she folded the delicate looking glass Samwell had provided and placed it in her cloak pocket. Then unfurled her maps on the desk, ready to consult in a moment’s notice. Everything was in place. She had thought to name the vessel Nymeria, but changed her mind at the last minute and opted instead for Dreamfyre, the name of Rhaena Targaryen’s dragon. It only seemed fit that it should have a mount’s name. It was small, only two masts and a relatively shallow hull, but it would be fast, and fit to handle rough waters.

Turning back around, she made her way back out onto the deck. The pale light filled her eyes as she stepped out, sounds of sea and the docks filling her ears, and the smell of salt and fish filling her nose. This would be her life now, and she wanted to take them all in. They were, of course, familiar from her voyages to and from Braavos. But this would be different. There would be no promise of the comforts of her homeland on the other side of the wide expanse waiting for them. She must embrace this.

Men of all sorts bustled to and fro about the deck around her. Some were checking the ropes, some were working their way up the masts to the great grey sails that hung there. Some were loading cargo onto the deck, others lifted the cargo and carried it far below deck. Wren had told her that most of the men were from her own crew, left without families and any real home to hope to return to, and the woman had assured Arya of their loyalty. But there were still some who were new recruits, and Arya knew that she would need to watch those men closely. She almost dared one of them to test her. She needed an example for the rest.

None from the Red Keep had turned up at the docks. Arya wondered if she had really managed to avoid their goodbyes, or if maybe Bran had kept them away. Either way, she found herself oddly grateful and disappointed. A last glance at a familiar face surely wouldn’t have hurt.

Once the deck was satisfactorily surveyed, she turned and ascended the steps to the helm. Wren stood there, leaning over the railing with a watchful eye on her crew below. Arya noted that she had opted for a thick woolen shirt and leather vest instead of her usual dirty tunic and guessed that it must have come from the pay advance.

“Are we ready?” Arya asked, joining the woman in leaning against the railing.

“Aye.” Wren responded. She sounded livelier now. Probably because she was sober, but Arya could sense that she was now in her element. “Cargo is nearly loaded. We have enough rations for each man for four months. Korin and Bull are down in the hold getting it secured.”

Arya nodded. She had met Wren’s brother on the second meeting in the Lion and Kitten. Korin was nearly a foot taller than Wren but was four years her younger. A dive into cold waters in his youth had ruined his hearing and ever since he had relied on written notes and hand gestures to speak. But he was smart and had developed a knack for navigation, making him a valuable asset for the journey. “And all the crew turned up?”

Wren shrugged. “A few haven’t arrived. It always happens though. A voyage sounds well and good until you wake up hungover and decide to sleep in. But we have enough. And the men are solid. I’ve worked with most of them; they’ve got no issue taking orders from women.”

“Will any of the new men give trouble?” Arya then asked, her mind drawing back to her earlier thoughts.

“Pots won’t. He seems too old to really care. But Tom, the one working the cargo hoist, he tried getting grabby when I signed him up; keep your blade on you and he shouldn’t try much. The acolyte is a drunk, but which ones aren’t? He’ll learn to sober up when we have to cut ale rations.”

The women watched as what seemed to be the last load of barrels was hoisted into the deck. As the men worked a sudden gust of wind caught up, causing a hat to fly up and overboard. It’s owner, momentarily distracted, lost his handle on the load, causing it to thrash against his head and knock him to the deck. To Arya’s surprise, most of the men began cheering and clapping the downed man on the back, who looked himself both stunned and pleased as he drew a blood covered hand away from his forehead. Wren must have caught Arya’s confusion because she immediately began to explain. “A hat going overboard is an omen of a long voyage, but bloodshed before a launch means a successful one. The gods are on our side, Stark.”

Within a few minutes they had been lowered down into the hold. _‘This is it.’_ Arya thought with a slight shiver. Wren whistled through her teeth, grabbing the attention of the men on the dock who then began to untie the roping that held The Dreamfyre to Westeros. Arya hardly had any time to process what was taking place when she saw that they were already several yards away from shore. Sails were already filled with the early morning’s breeze. It was almost relieving, in a way. It was done with. There was no going back. She almost felt like she had when she departed for Braavos all that time ago. Here she was jumping off into a new adventure without the slightest inkling of what would occur.

That first day was very uneventful. Their course, for the time being, would take them to the south, around Dorne, before departing into western waters. Arya found herself slipping into a routine that she knew best, standing back and observing. She wanted to learn this role, the role of a captain who knew her ship like her own body. And to do so, she must watch. She watched the riggers ascending to the dizzying heights above and adjusting the sails. She watched Wren as she manned the helm and kept the ship always the right distance from the shore, and watched as Korin came up to the deck and eyed the horizon with a keen gaze. Even the two cabin boys, who couldn’t have been older than eight, caught her attention as they ran about on bare feet completing errands.

Hours passed and lunchtime arrived. Arya took the heel of bread and boiled potato that was served and took it to the forecastle. As she nibbled, she gazed out over the direwolf’s head into the dark waters. She felt peace. Though she was not foolish enough to believe that this journey would solve every problem, she was grateful for the respite, however short it may be. When her lunch was finished, she turned and made up her mind to finish observing the ship. And, with most of her day already sent above deck, that only left the hull and cabins. Going from the daylight above to the dim lantern light below caused her to rely on her senses for a time, though she hated to admit even to herself that she was not as sharp as she should be. _‘Training I’ll need to improve.’_

Once she gained her bearings, she located the cabin that Wren and Korin shared, the cabin that seemed to belong to the acolyte, and two more that could be reserved for infirmaries. Making her way forwards led her into the cargo and crew quarters. The ship’s size and the provisions needed would not allow for a separate area for both, but she had been assured that the men would mind it very little, and most would even prefer sleeping on the deck in good weather. Rows of casks and barrels sat beside rows of crates and pallets, all secured tightly to the beams that creaked and groaned with the moving waves. It was an odd feeling down there, she discovered. Confined and mysterious with the knowledge that you sat under the sea but could not see it. Her thoughts were interrupted by movement and she nimbly jumped onto a cask as a figure darted past her. It was Quint, one of the cabin boys, she soon saw as the boy pounced upon the chicken he had been chasing. Smiling up at Arya, he walked back past her, holding the fowl snuggly under his arm to return it to it’s cage. Arya followed, interested to see how the livestock would be kept.

“Ah good, Quint. Back in you go, chicken.” A voice spoke out.

Arya froze.


	4. Still Like Water

Grey eyes met blue. The dim lantern flickered between them and the boards groaned around them, but neither moved. The look on his face was unapologetic and almost soft. She couldn’t say the same for hers. Arya was sure that the fire in her eyes didn’t come from the small lantern flame. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No one was supposed to follow her, let alone him. Especially him.

"Did any more get out, Bull?" Quint asked causing the blue eyes to look back down at the cage.

"No, I think you got them." Gendry replied, locking it up tightly.

But by the time he raised his head, she had gone and was already halfway to the deck. Within minutes Arya was standing beside Wren at the helm asking if they had approached Tarth.

“Coming up on it by sunrise tomorrow.”

“Good. We’ll be stopping to let a man off.”

Wren raised a brow and looked hard at Arya. “One of ‘em get cold feet?”

“No. But I won’t have him on my ship.”

“And might I inquire which one?” the other woman asked, her curiosity peeking. “If one of them is giving you trouble, I assure you it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

 _‘I should fix him myself.’_ Arya thought harshly before speaking her reply. “That won’t be necessary. The man down below, Gendry, I know him. I won’t have him on this voyage.”

Wren wrinkled her brow as if she was thinking hard. She looked out at the horizon, muttering the name several times.

“The one with black hair.” Arya interjected. “Knows how to smith. Quint called him Bull.”

“Oh, Bull!” Wren’s eyes lit up as she realized who Arya spoke of. “I wouldn’t have thought him any trouble at all! Nice enough when he came to sign up. I didn’t know whether to kiss him or hit him, though. Thought he might be a little crazed. It isn’t often you get a smith to sign up for voyages like this, let alone one who’s worth a shit. Gendry, you say?”

“Yes. Lord Gendry Baratheon.”

Wren continued to stare out into the waves, her mouth opening and closing several times. Finally, she sighed and mumbled something before kissing a tattoo of a bird on her right wrist.

“Gods help me, two fuckin’ nobles crazy enough to sail into the west.”

“Only one.” Arya corrected, turning to leave. “Like I said, he’s leaving.”

She was just about to descend the steps when she heard Wren give a high-pitched whistle. Surprisingly, Korin turned to look from his place at the railing. Wren made a few hand motions, resulting in her brother stepping over to take the helm. "We'll talk below." Wren said softly as she ushered Arya down the steps.

The two women said no more until they were in the captain's quarters and Wren had closed the door tightly.

"You're the captain, and you make the decisions; I won’t go against your word. But if I were you, there'll be no stopping in Tarth. Not unless you want trouble down the line."

Arya raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms and leaning against the large desk behind her.

"Maybe not today, maybe not next week. But it'll come. That man, whatever his name is, is under your employment with promise of pay, same as the rest here. If you go kicking your crew off just because you have some sorted history, the men will take note."

"I thought you said they're loyal."

"Aye, to me! Because I've proven myself. But I’m not captain. You need to do the same.” Wren stepped forwards to poke a finger into Arya’s chest. “Show them you're firm, but fair. That they can trust you. If we ever make it back from this trip, they're gonna be expecting their promised pay. You don't need to be spreading doubt that you might skimp on them just because they don't suit you."

Arya lowered her head. Damn, she was right. But what could she do? She very well couldn’t just pretend that everything was fine. _‘Why does this all have to fall apart as soon as it’s begun?_ ’

Wren groaned and eased herself down into a chair. “Look, if you really want him gone, I can try to help.”

“You can?” Arya asked, a spark of hope returning to her eye.

“Yeah. I like you, Stark. Not just because you killed some monster in the North.” Wren grinned. “You’re not like most highborn. I’ll tell you what we can do; we’ll be circling around Dorne within the week. Stick it out until that long and then announce that we’ll be docking at Oldtown to top off supplies. Maybe by then you can talk him into leaving quietly.”

Arya nodded, wheels beginning to work in her mind. She knew Gendry. She knew him well. She had lain with the man, dammit. He was as stubborn as her. It wouldn’t be easy to get him to leave willingly. She still didn’t even know how he had managed to arrange all of this in the first place.

“It’ll be a shame, though.” Wren lamented as she stood from her chair, turning to return to the deck. “Not a bad looking guy…”

********~~~~~~~~********

Day finally gave way to night. Arya had always liked this time of the day at sea. There was no trees or hills or buildings to block out the light, so the horizon kept it’s heavenly glow until the very last of the rays had dipped below it’s waters. Then, one by one, the stars would arrive to take their solemn watch. Perched on the direwolf figurehead, she felt like an audience of one to the great pageantry. There was no war here, no carnage or loss. Only the sky above and water below; and inside was the small voice that beaconed her onward. Behind her a bell was struck, telling the men to change over to the next watch. Her ears perked up, listening to the soft padding of feet moving about, but she did not turn around, choosing instead to wait until all movement had died down.

Gendry had finally made his way above deck for supper time. And though she watched him with a hawk-like stare, he only once twitched his eyes up at her beside the helm. She felt mildly disappointed before silently scolding herself and turning away. She had left that life that included him, even before she had stepped aboard this ship; long ago in Winterfell when she had been so sure that she would never be returning alive.

Gentle waves lapped at the sides of the boat, taking away with them the remaining light until the world was black ink and starlight. Carefully, she spun around and climbed down from the figurehead before making her way gingerly across the deck to the bow. Soon she stood below in her quarters. She hadn’t realized how tired she had truly been until she began stripping off her clothes, slightly damp from the sea spray, and pulling on a loose shirt. Dim starlight filtered in through the windows which looked out the bow of the ship and made the wood look very much like grey stone. A pang filled her heart at the thought of Winterfell and she briefly wondered if she ever would return. Choosing to push away the thought for later, she locked her door and pulled back the covers. Slipping into the bed was like slipping into the most wonderful feeling, and the rocking waves soon had her in a deep sleep.

But the exhaustion betrayed her, and halfway into the night she found herself trapped inside of a nightmare. She was a large stone, heavy and jagged, and dragon-fire had broken her from a building. Down she tumbled. Everything in her path was crushed into dust. She wept inwardly as she landed on heads and backs. Lives ended horribly beneath her careless weight. She screamed apologies, though she knew they could not be heard. On and on she hurled and bounced until, from out of a blaze of fire, came a hammer. It landed square on her head, ending both her and her destruction.

Her eyes flew open and for a very brief moment she didn’t recognize the space around her. Her hand was half-way to Needle under her pillow before she remembered. Finding that nothing else would do, she curled herself up under the covers and stared with blurry eyes out the large plate windows into the dark night.

When morning light came again, Arya found that she had fallen back asleep at some point in the night. After pulling on some dry clothes and washing her face in a bucket of fresh water, she walked slowly back out onto the deck. Surprisingly, it seemed to be earlier than she had thought. The sun was only just beginning to spread it’s light above the trees and cliffs to their left. No one else had awoken yet, save for the night helmsman who looked himself to be half asleep on his feet as he gripped the great wheel. She remembered waking this early before, loosing herself in the still Godswood to practice her Water Dancing.

Without very much thought at all, Arya’s feet lead her to side-wall of the deck and before she knew it she had hopped up onto it’s edge. She smiled to herself as a familiar voice came to her mind. _‘Still like water. Sure-footed as a deer.’_

Her arms were raised out to her sides. One foot in front of the other. A wave that was larger than the others hit the stern and gave the ship a gentle jolt. Arya lurched forwards, barely catching her footing. But her smile grew larger. A new challenge.

One more step, and then another. She had made her way nearly across one half of the boat before she felt eyes on her. Planting her footing, she turned her head to see that Gendry had come up from the hull and was sitting against a barrel watching her. He didn’t look away when she saw him, but he gave no indication of wanting her attention either. He was simply there. And that made Arya frustrated enough that she lost her balance again, jumping to the side and onto the deck before the movement could knock her overboard.

She had enough. Arya Stark had never been known for patience. That wouldn’t change today. Stepping lightly over towards him, his eyes stayed calmly on hers until she had sat herself down beside him, leaning against the barrel and looking out towards the sunrise.

“So you’re here.” She began.

“Aye.” Was the simple answer. He said it as if he’d been answering whether or not his name was Gendry.

“Why?”

“To see the west.”

“On my ship?”

“Aye.”

“Why are you on my ship?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.

“I told you, to see the west,” he shrugged, before adding, “milady.”

Arya took in a deep breath and squared her shoulders. It wasn’t until then that she noticed that her arm was tense on the side that sat against him. “No you aren’t.”

“And why is that? Surely you wouldn’t get rid of your ship’s smith? Your new friend said I’m valuable.”

“Because you’re a lord now, that’s why. You don’t belong on a ship going west.”

Gendry laid his head back against the barrel. Arya could sense that he was as relaxed as she was coiled, and she wanted so badly to punch him. “Not anymore. Gave the Stormlands to Davos. He’s earned them. I couldn’t ever be that person.”

Arya furrowed her brow, looking up at him with a scowl and muttering, “Stubborn bull.” Before standing and looking down at him. “You’re leaving at Oldtown. That’s it.”

It wasn’t until then that she saw any other emption pass across his face. A faint sadness filled his eyes as he looked up at her, searching hers for something she knew not.

She didn’t ask, though, but instead turned around sharply to return to her quarters.

If anyone had asked, she would have said that she returned to her quarters to relieve herself, or to quietly study her maps before the day truly started. But she would never admit that she had returned to curl back up under the covers.


	5. With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for whatever God-forsaken reason, this chapter was hard to write. I spent the entire weekend re-working it a million different ways and this was the one that seemed the least awkwardly put. So, if it doesn't work, my upmost apologies. I assure you the next chapter will be better!
> 
> I also promise that things will begin picking up a bit in the story, now that they're finally at sea!
> 
> Also, a huge thanks to everyone whos commented! It helps so much to see what you all respond to the most! Keep them up!

They were nearing Oldtown. Days were much warmer, and clouds were much less common as they skirted the coast of Dorne. Two mornings ago she had decided that the time for observation had passed. Now it was time for doing. Much of her time had since been spent seeking out various crew members and asking them to teach her their trades. Wren had since offered tips on how to read the shoreline to tell where the reefs and shallow shoals sat, Willis had her assist him in properly folding up one of the great sails to be mended, and now Bern was teaching her various knots that would hold tight but could still be untied quickly.

The Dreamfyre, as Arya came to find, was a ship that seemed to be a person all of it’s own. The days spent walking it’s deck and learning it’s build was like discovering a new friend. The sun shone down brightly, and it almost seemed to dance with joy over the blue waves. The sun would hide, and rain would batter her boards, and she seemed to hunker herself down against the elements, plowing along on her intended path.

“Aye! You got it that time!” Bern praised, giving Arya a gentle slap on the shoulder. “Now untie it and do it over again a few times.”

Arya smiled proudly and began to do as instructed. She had talked Bern into teaching her some more sailing knots, finally feeling herself catching onto the trick of it.

She worked diligently until the bell was struck for lunch. Arya took her cheese and salted pork and made her way over to where Gendry was rolling a rope on the forecastle. They were sure to reach Oldtown by nightfall, and still she had made no progress in talking him into leaving the ship. He glanced at her from the side but continued to finish his chore as Arya turned her gaze out to the Dornish coast.

"Doing well, Captain?" he asked easily, lifting the coil to stack it with some others.

"Captain?" she asked raising an eyebrow. "That's new. Get tired of 'milady'?"

"Never." he answered with a light chuckle. "Just thought I'd try something new. We've got a long way to go, don't want to bore you."

She stopped herself from elbowing his ribs. "We've been over this. You're not coming."

Gendry smirked and sat down beside her, leaning back against the pile of ropes he'd created. "You keep saying that, and still, you've yet to give me a satisfactory answer."

"You're a lord."

"Not anymore I'm not."

"It'll be hard work."

He reached over and broke off a piece of her cheese, popping it into his mouth. "Nothing I'm not used to."

"You may never come back."

"I've got nothing to come back to."

Arya bit the inside of her cheek, quickly replacing it with a bite of pork. _'He really doesn't, does he.'_

"And what do you have against me coming anyways?" he asked, leaving over and nudging her arm with his. “Would have thought you’d like a friend along.”

“Because I’m the captain and I say so.”

Gendry snorted. “Now that’s a pathetic excuse. Maybe you’re not suited for being captain. I kinda liked you better as ‘milady’ anyways.”

“Well maybe I liked you better as a stuffy lord who had servants to wipe his own arse.” She rebutted harshly, feeling her cheeks getting red. She told herself it was just from the sun, but still turned slightly away so Gendry couldn’t see.

“Arya,” he said softly. She already knew what was coming. “If you liked me better as a lord, you would have never left Winterfell.”

“It had nothing to do with that, Gendry. You know it.” She replied just as softly, standing and tossing the rest of her pork off the edge of the boat before returning to the helm.

********~~~~~~~~********

"There." Wren announced as she let go of the helm, leaving Arya to steer the Dreamfyre all on her own.

Her ship. It wasn't the last time that phrase has crossed her mind, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. But in that moment, it felt more real than ever. She glanced from the deep grey waves down to the vessel below her, the crew walking about as they continued their duties. Though she would never speak it out loud, she truly felt like a queen of her own people.

Oldtown was in view, and Arya had talked Wren into letting her dock the ship, their last docking before setting sail into the Sunset Sea. She guided it carefully into the harbor, letting the gentle currant guide it towards the rows of docks. To say that the job was completed without incident would be a lie. There were a few near misses, and the dock nearly destroyed as she approached it, but by the time it was over they had saddled up nicely to the wooden planks. Ties were being thrown over the side and the planks lowered when Arya spoke up.

“We’re only docking for one night!” she spoke down to the crew who had gathered on the deck. “Do what you will, but at first light we’ll be setting off. Last chance for any who have second thoughts. You’ll be paid for this week’s work.”

Soon it was just Arya left on the ship’s deck. The dock official had come and went, receiving the fee and stamping the required papers. The sun was already setting, so she decided to wait until morning to see about the supplies. She was just about to return back to the helm when Wren came up from below, giving Arya an odd look.

“Bull is still down there.” She said, nodding back towards the stairs. “I tried telling him that he’d better listen to ya, but he’d only say that he had to be here.”

Arya squared her shoulders and nodded. “Thanks, Wren. I’ll talk to him.”

“What’s between you two anyways? Did he put a babe in your sister or something?”

“No. I’ve known him since we were little. But I don’t want anyone feeling like they need to follow me.”

“I understand that.” Wren nodded. “Still, seems man enough to make that choice for himself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, captain, I’m off to find a man for myself.” And, with that, Wren was off the ship, leaving Arya alone to deal with Gendry.

She stepped towards the small steps leading below but stopped when she saw that Gendry was coming up them.

“Heading off?” she asked, eyeing him sternly.

“No. Just coming up for some air.” He replied, eyes glancing up at hers.

“You?”

“No. Staying with the ship. Don’t have any reason to go ashore.”

“Same here.” He turned towards the steps leading to the helm, sitting down on the second to last one.

“Yes, you do have a reason.” She grumbled. “You have to. You don’t want to come.”

“Oh, I think I very much do want to come.” Was his sharp reply, leaning back and crossing his strong arms across his chest.

“Why can’t you just let this be, Gendry?” she pleaded, voice raising as she felt herself loosing control of the situation. Arya sucked in a deep breath, attempting to regain herself. “I don’t want anyone from before feeling like they have to follow me. This is my choice. You don’t have to be a part of it.”

When she looked back at him, his arms were on his knees as he leaned towards her, deep blue eyes taking her in.

“Arya, I’ll tell you exactly why I have to be a part of this.” He finally said, standing up to step towards her. “When we were kids, you were the only one who ever gave a shit about me. We were the closest friends. And then I lost you and I thought you were dead, or worse, that you had forgotten all about me and had found another life to live. But, against every possible odd, I got you back at Winterfell. And even though we just knew we were going to die, it was the happiest time of my life.”

He paused to lick his lips. He was now standing directly in front of her. “Then I lost you again, and I cried every last tear in my body. And, for a second time, against every possible odd, you were alive again. So, when I heard that you were sailing for the west, I made a promise to myself any god that would listen that I wouldn’t lose you a third time.”

He was standing so close now that Arya could feel the heat from his breath on her forehead. She forced her eyes up to look at his and found them, not angry, but lined with tears.

“I don’t care if we never go back to how we were, as lovers.” He spoke again, softly this time. “That doesn’t matter to me. I only want to stay with you, Arya. I won’t return to a cold castle and spend the rest of my days wondering whether or not you’re safe, or warm, or even alive. None of it matters, anyways. My place is here now.”

Arya closed her eyes and lowered her head. “Gendry…”

“Don’t, Arya. I’m staying with you.”

She couldn’t say more. It all felt too much. So, she did the only thing she could do, which was nod her head and lean up to brush her lips against his cheek before hurrying down to her quarters.

********~~~~~~~~********

They sailed away from Oldtown on a blue morning. Half the crew was still drunk from the night before, and the other half was hungover. But still they sailed into the wide open water. Land grew smaller and smaller behind them, but the horizon stayed the same to their front.

Arya stood firm at the helm, watching with mild amusement as Wren leaned wearily on the railing beside her. She had returned to the ship only an hour before sunrise, and not in the shirt she had been wearing the night before.

The first mate grunted, gesturing down to the deck where Gendry was busying himself picking up the slack others were leaving. “He’s still here.” She commented.

Arya nodded, smiling to herself. “He is.”

********~~~~~~~~********

_Voyage of The Dreamfyre into the Sunset Sea_

_Captain's Log: Day 1_

_"Weather is sunny and clear as we leave from Oldtown. Crew are struggling under effects of ale, but otherwise in good spirits. We still hold all members listed in manifest."_


	6. A New Pack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, keep the comments and tips coming! I told myself at the beginning that I would write the fic that I would want to read, but you guys are the ones truly receiving! Let me know what you like best in it, or what you don't like.

Arya carefully unrolled the map across the long desk, placing weights at each end before stepping back to allow Wren and Korin to lean over it. It was beautifully detailed, commissioned special for her. The right hand showed the west coast of Westeros, Iron Islands clearly marking it’s edge, with a large expanse of lavish blues stretching across the rest.

“We should set a course for this direction.” Arya suggested, pointing down towards the bottom left corner. “Grandmaester Samwell said that the only ship to return found three small islands in the region, about a month out.”

Wren nodded in response, scribbling the information down on a scrap of paper before pushing it in front of Korin. Arya had learned back in King’s Landing of how Wren had paid for a novice in Oldtown to teach her to read and write, so that she could then teach Korin. He leaned over and scanned the note, brushing his shaggy hair out of his face before jotting down his own and sliding it back across the table for Arya to read. “South is good in winter. But may be storms.”

“Well, it’s the only lead we have to go on. Once we get there, we can restock and repair to sail further.” Arya said, jotting down her words on the paper.

She reached to the chest below the table and pulled out three bronze instruments: a sextant, a quadrant, and a compass. She handed them over to Korin, who took them with wide eyes. With a smile and a nod, he turned to bring them up to the deck. Arya and Wren followed, blinking in the bright sunlight as they stepped out into it.

The sky was as clear as far as could be seen. A much different feeling filled the air, to be sure. The men seemed just as excited as she was. Warmer weather had brought on lighter clothing, some of them opting for no shirts, as they busied themselves with ropes and sails. The riggers were having a day of it up on the masts. With sails full of the warm wind, they climbed between the two tall spokes adjusting the ropes and holds.

“Hey, Captain!” a voice called, pulling her attention back down to the deck. She turned to see Sal waving a small pouch in his hand. “Do you still want to help mend that sail?”

Arya soon found herself seated beside the man, leaning up against the side railing with the sail folded across their laps, a large tear across it.

“What would make a sail tear like this?” she asked curiously.

Sal shrugged. “Could have been those winds we ran into coming around Dorne. Or could have been that it wasn’t strong to begin with. No matter. We’ll have it fixed and back up in no time.”

Arya was already beginning to like the man. He reminded her of her father in a way, not too loud and easy to be around. He would be about her father’s age too. She watched as he pulled a large needle and some thick thread from the pouch, running the thread through his mouth before slipping it through the needle’s eye. When he handed it to Arya, she nearly hesitated to take it, noticing that her hand shook slightly when she did.

“Won’t hurt ya.” he chuckled. “Well, maybe it will. But not if you’re careful.”

“No, it’s not that.” she said, smiling herself as she looked down at the small piece of steel. “The last time I tried to sew I was told that it looked like an abomination.”

“Ah, none of that here.” Was his reply as he reached into the pouch for his own needle. “Don’t matter how good it looks. This isn’t sewing flowers on a dress. No one’s gonna be looking at it from all the way down here anyways. Just as long as it holds strong, it’ll do.”

Arya nodded, looking hard at the canvas and trying to remember what her septa and mother had told her all those years ago. Slipping the needle through the fabric, she brought it around to poke through the other side of the tear, repeating the action slowly. She focused on that action, making a conscious decision to let her fear slip away. Up and down; through and through. Steady on the line. _‘Smooth as a breeze.'_

She hardly even noticed her progress until she reached the end of her side. Feeling Sal stop his own work beside her, he reached his tanned hand over to run it over the line of stitches.

“Well, Captain Stark!” he said proudly. “That looks mighty fine to me!”

Hardly able to contain a smile, Arya ran her own fingers over the stitching. She felt an odd sense of pride. It had been so long since she felt pride in doing something that wasn’t related to weapons or secrecy. She very much liked it.

A shadow passed over the canvas and Sal called out, “Hey, Tom! You mind helping me get this sail back up when you get a chance?”

Looking up, she saw that the shadow had been Tom’s, walking past where they sat with a few boards slung dangerously loose over his shoulder. The lanky man turned, eyes falling on Arya before giving her a greasy smile that made her own smile drop. Wren had warned her about her on that first day, and she had definitely found out why. He had done well that first week, so well that Arya had begun to think that things would work out. But ever since they started out into the open sea he had become shiftier by the day. He only did enough to get by, and never on the first asking.

“Oh, I’m sure our fine captain here could do it.” he replied, voice thick as tar, eyes never leaving Arya. For a moment he reminded her of Theon as a young man.

“Well your captain says that it should be you.” was her strong rebuttal. Pushing the sail off of her lap, she moved to stand, hand instinctively going to the dagger on her hip. Needle was tucked safely away in the cabin, but she still felt naked walking around without a blade. “So stop skimping and help with this sail.”

Tom chuckled highly before turning to walk away, obviously having not been phased one bit by Arya’s order. Arya grumbled under her breath, but before she could do more, she felt someone stepping up behind her. Expecting it to be Sal, she signed and turned. But it was Gendry.

He was shirtless, and Arya’s eyes dropped straight to his chest as he turned to face them. He had obviously been at work for a while now; beads of sweat traced lines down his pink tinted skin, a large crate slung over one of his shoulders.

“I’ll help you, Sal.” he nodded before cutting his eyes over to Arya, face softening in silent question.

Arya got the message and gave him a quick smile. Tom didn’t bother her. He really didn’t. Well, he did; but only in that he was the inevitable trouble. But she didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea that she couldn’t handle him.

“I’d be grateful, Bull. But ya might want to put a shirt on before you do.” Sal then suggested, bringing her attention away from Gendry. Arya couldn’t help the inward grumble that came to her mind. “Light skin like that, you’ll be burnt worse than sausage.”

“Thanks, but I’ll manage.” was Gendry’s reply. He cut his eyes over to Arya and raised an eyebrow when he saw that her eyes had drifted back to him.

Arya watched him walk away. The glistening sweat on his back muscles made her stomach turn in the best way. Turning to give a heartfelt thanks to Sal, she retreated to the helm where she could see the whole of the ship, including Gendry. Wren was at her usual spot at the helm, with Korin beside her, eagerly using the instruments like a child with new toys. He would hold one up to the sky and look hard at it before setting it down and jotting in his notebook, only to pick up another instrument and do the exact same. Arya made note that she would need to have him teach her more, but not now. Now, she leaned against the railing beside the helm and her eyes drifted back down to where Gendry had returned to Sal.

The two men reached down and began threading ropes through the eyelets. Once that was done, each took a rope and pulled hard until the heavy canvas began to raise slowly into the air towards waiting hands on the mast. But nothing else occupied her mind except Gendry’s rippling back muscles. One hand moved in front of the other, and the other in front of that one, his shoulders flexing in an entrancing rhythm.

It was odd, really, how so long ago she only thought of boys as being different in the sense that they could be a lord and she couldn’t. Marriage and love seemed something attractive to every girl but her. But then he came along, with his calloused hands and thick black hair; stubborn brain and protective nature, and suddenly he filled every facet of her mind. For the smallest moment she wanted to have him again, firm and hot underneath her, or strong and fierce above her.

“You picked a good one.” Wren’s voice snapped Arya out of the daze she didn’t even know she was in.

“Who?”

“The prized bull you’ve been eye-fucking all day.” Wren smirked. “Can’t blame anyone for wanting to take a ride on that.”

Arya only raised an eyebrow.

“Never allowed any relations on my ship, but this is yours, so I guess you make the rules!” the other woman shrugged.

“I won’t be having any ‘relations’.” Arya said firmly, turning herself to lean her back against the rail.

“Then why’d you let him stay?”

“I thought about what you said. A good smith can be handy to have around.” she shrugged.

“Yeah, handy.” Wren chortled.

Arya couldn’t help but chuckle softly herself. “Tom is turning into a problem.” she changed the subject.

Wren let out a breath and leaned against the helm wheel. “Yeah, he is. Big Edd was complaining last night that Tom wouldn’t help with the scrubbing.”

“Am I going to have to make an example?”

“I think you already know the answer.” Wren replied in a low voice. “But I’ll leave that on you, captain. This is your crew. You’re the She-Wolf in the North? Now you’re the She-Wolf of the Sea. Manage your pack.”

The words filled Arya’s chest, making her stand up a little straighter. She-Wolf of the Sea; she liked how it sounded. And that’s what she would be. If she had been alone, she would have howled loud enough for Nymeria to hear her in the Riverlands. But she settled for a proud look down at her new pack.

********~~~~~~~~********

Day faded into night. The sail was hung and, with the added catch of wind, they were moving swifter across the ever-leaping waves. A hearty supper of pork stew, hard bread, and ale was eaten on the deck. Afterwards, Nester pulled out a fiddle and took up a gentle tune, Lorin jumping in with the bits of song he knew.

The mood was light and Arya could hold in the smile that drifted across her face. Seated back against the rear deck, she allowed herself to take it all in.

Gendry sat in amongst the men, flanked on either side by Ralph and Quint. The two boys had taken to him, it seemed. She reasoned that it may have had something to do with them sharing the same bastard name as him. She watched as they took turns asking him questions, feeling her heart warm at the glint that came to his eye when he gave an answer.

Arya wanted the evening to last forever. All was right. But the weight of sleep began to come upon the ship and, one by one, the men began to bed down. Deciding to do the same, she silently stood and slipped below deck to her cabin. The light mood helped to improve her dreams, but they still sat strange in her mind.

She was a wolf running through the woods. But this wasn’t a wolf-dream. No, she could tell the difference. None of this was real, only the feelings behind the images. Galloping past villages and strongholds, she ran and ran until the ground turned white with fresh snow. But then it wasn’t snow, it was ash, and she padded into a ruined city. Smoke and haze drifted around her with no signs of life in it. Then movement appeared in the corner of her eye. She turned and saw a large white stag, as big as the horse she had found in King’s Landing on that horrible day. Polished antlers shone as it lowered it’s head to smell of her. She felt oddly vulnerable and moved to step away, but everywhere she walked in the rubble, it followed, never more than two steps behind her.

********~~~~~~~~********

The next morning was just as bright as the day before, and Arya found herself hopeful that the rest of their voyage would be just as smooth. She knew it was a fool’s hope, but the thought itself was enough for her to dress quickly and step quickly out onto the deck. Mornings of practice had given her the ability to walk the entire perimeter of the ship’s edge, which she did yet again on this morning.

 _‘I will master this ship.’_ she told herself proudly. _‘I will never fear her.’_

By the time she was finished, the men were beginning to stir. Eagerly taking her breakfast of oats and dried pears, she ate it on the forecastle while watching the sun begin it’s climb into the pale blue sky.

She fully expected Gendry to appear beside her as she did, but he never came. The morning ticked on and, still, he was no where to be seen. Curious, and a little concerned, she returned to the helm. Wren, she had seen, was busy instructing a couple of the men how the sails needed to be adjusted, leaving Korin to steer.

The young man saw her ascending the steps and immediately shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out a paper scrap and a small bit of charcoal. Arya smiled in thanks and jotted down: ‘Seen Bull?’

Korin read the note and wrote his own: “Below. In cabin. Hurting.”

The scrap of paper was barely back in Korin’s hand before Arya was down the steps and descending into the hold. Finding one of the spare cabin’s doors cracked, she quickly pushed it open to find it lit by a small lantern.

The dim light illuminated the face of Aegon the acolyte as he bent over the dark form on the bed. It was Gendry, alright. At least, it was Gendry’s back, him lying on his stomach and making no effort to move as she stepped inside. Even in the dim light, she could tell what the problem was. The skin on his back was much too red, even in the low light.

“Sunburn? Really, Gendry?”

The poor man let out a low groan as he turned his head slowly over to face her.

Without thinking, she muttered, “Stubborn.” and lightly punched his shoulder. The highest pitched sound that she had ever heard him make was muffled into the pillow.

She felt horrible, but at the same time found herself stifling back a laugh. Aegon put a hand on her arm and leaned close to speak softly. Though his face was soft and bright, his breath smelled thick with ale. “It really is burned pretty deep. He’ll need to stay out of the sun for a couple of days at the least.”

Though she was holding back the laughter and jests, she simply couldn’t hold back the eye-roll that came. It shouldn’t have surprised her, really. His thick head would surely be the end of him someday.

“Whatever is best.” she replied cordially. “But you’ll teach me how to treat it. I want to learn.”

Aegon’s response was wide eyes and a small grin. There had never been a woman maester, or even one who had attended the Citadel, but they were already far from home, and Arya was a different breed of woman.

Dismissing himself to retrieve some ointments, Aegon left the two for his own cabin. Once he was gone, Arya sat on the floor beside the low cot, looking over at Gendry’s miserable face pressed against the pillow. His eyes cracked open as she leaned her shoulder against the mattress.

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked softy.

“Whatever you will, milady.”


	7. She-Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys don't mind that these chapters aren't as long as in other fics. On my ever-going journey of self-discovery, I have come to the realization that I physically cannot write very long chapters. I get to a point where my mind feels like it should be done and that's it, sorry, the number you have dialed has a voicemail box that has not been set up.
> 
> But thank you to those who are still reading! And to those who may be new! And a special blessing of the Crone on those beautiful folks who have been commenting! Like most other writers, I am fueled by external validation and look forwards to comments and kudos sooooo much.
> 
> So, with that all being said, I think this fire has burned low and slow long enough. Time to add a little bit of fuel to it, don't you think?

“Will you just please let me.” Aegon sighed, setting the small jar down on the table a little firmer that was probably called for.

Gendry’s only response was to shake his head vigorously and moan unintelligible words into the pillow.

“What was that?” Aegon asked with yet another sigh.

“Just let it be. It’ll head eventually.” Gendry pleaded, turning his head slightly to the side.

“Gendry.” Arya said firmly. She stood beside the bed with arms crossed, watching on as Aegon did his best for the thick-headed fool in her bed. “Let him put the salve on. You heard him, your skin will dry up and crack if he doesn’t.”

He lay face down on the bed in Arya’s quarters. After the first day of lying dormant in the dark cramped cabin, she had insisted on his move into her quarters where there were windows for light and better access. It had caused some talk amongst the crew, to be sure, but Arya had never once shared the room with him and instead began sleeping above on the deck. The days had remained warm and peaceful, and the nights offered a beautiful view of the stars above.

Gendry let out another pitiful moan and returned his head to the pillow. This was getting them nowhere. Arya waited for no invitation as she pushed past Aegon and sat down beside Gendry on the bed, grabbing the jar that Aegon had given up on. Inside it she saw a light green paste, made from the juice of some plant. The acolyte had assured that the paste itself wound not hurt, but that it may be unpleasant to apply.

“I’m going to put this on you.” Arya said firmly. “If you move or try to stop me, I’ll slap you right on the shoulders.”

Throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes, Aegon shuffled out of the room, muttering something about “finding somewhere he was needed”. Arya was pretty sure he would find where he was needed by the casks of ale.

Gendry said nothing, but she could see him gripping the sheets below him with white knuckles.

She dipped her fingers into the jar, finding the salve cool and smelling of fresh clean plant-life. He tensed as she touched the fingers to his back. If he made any sound, it was muffled by the pillow. Gently, she began to spread the salve, creating a light glisten against the deep red skin.

To say that she didn’t enjoy the process in a way would be a bold-faced lie. The curves and raises in his back felt familiar and new at the same time. His eyes were well hidden from view and she allowed herself a small reprieve to become lost in the feel of his skin under her fingers. She hadn’t wanted him to come; she still didn’t. No matter what he had said that evening in Oldtown, it still panged her that someone had given up their comfortable life to follow hers. But, if anyone had followed her, she was ever grateful that it was him; even though she could never tell him that. At least not now.

Scooping her fingers back in the jar, she spread more of the paste across his lower back. Men were always talking about the beauty of a woman’s curves; if only they knew what their own dips and rises could do to a woman. The skin was less red there, and she found herself pressing her palm a little firmer on the strong muscles. If he minded, he never gave any indication. Soon the deed was done, his back and shoulders covered in the cool paste. Arya sat the jar back on the table and wiped her fingers off on her pants, looking down at the back of his head.

“You alright?”

Gendry nodded.

“Does it help?”

He nodded again, slower this time, before turning his head to the side. His eyes remained closed as she felt his breathing began to ease. She figured that Gendry hadn’t been sleeping well the past two nights and hoped that this would bring him some relief.

Against her better judgment, she reached a hand up to run it gently through his hair. It was getting longer than before, as was his facial hair. She liked it; she liked him this way, rugged and rough. He fit the role of a clean-cut lord almost as well as she fit the role of a gentle lady.

A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth and she couldn’t help but mirror it. “Thank you,” he whispered, “for being as stubborn as me.”

Arya scooted closer to his head and leaned down, placing a kiss on the top of his head before whispering in his ear, “Take better care of yourself, for me. Or else you were better off staying in Westeros.”

“I will.” Was his reply, turning his eyes to look up at hers as he reached over to take her hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

They sat like that for what seemed like an hour, both looking into each other’s eyes with a pained mixture of affection and melancholy, the ever present movement of the boat reminding them that things were no longer the same as when they were younger, and things probably never would be. But they were together, despite everything, and maybe that could mean a second chance.

But the moment faltered as loud voices began to echo down from above deck. Arya furrowed her brow and stood, looking towards the door before looking back at Gendry, muttering a firm “Stay” before striding towards the door, grabbing Needle on her way out.

Stepping up onto the open deck, Arya immediately met the sight of a skirmish between some of the men. Pots had just grabbed ahold of Nester, while Oren and Lorin were struggling to keep a hold on Tom. Both men were sporting bloody noses and torn shirts. Wren let out a loud whistle, stepping down from the helm just as Arya emerged from below. The small crowd parted for the two women to step through.

“What’s going on here?” Arya demanded firmly. Her posture was straight, hands behind her back, Needle slung on her hip, gaze cold.

“That pig thinks that he can just do whatever he wants!” Nester bellowed, struggling against Pots’ firm grip. “Like he’s the damn king!”

“There will be no fighting tolerated on this ship.” Arya projected, looking between the men. “Any complaints will be dealt with by me.”

“See, Captain Stark will take care of us.” Tom smirked, every word dripping with sarcasm. “Maybe, if you’re lucky, she’ll let you sleep in her cabin too.”

“Not another word from you.” Arya snapped back. “What has he refused to do this time?”

“It was his turn to help me inspect the ropes. He only stared at me when I told him.” Nester said as he finally eased his fight against Pots.

“Everyone has their jobs.” she agreed, turning to face Tom.

Tom scoffed, clearly oblivious to the situation he was in. Either that, or he just didn’t care. “I was just pondering what I’d have to do to get to share a bed with you and…..”

“I don’t care what you were pondering.” Arya cut him off. “You continue to disrespect me and the rest of the crew, and only work when you feel like it. Now tell me, what makes you think that this is acceptable?”

Tom flashed one of his grins that enraged her. He began talking once more, but she could only stand to listen to him for so long.

Arya closed her eyes and took in a deep breath of the salt air, caring nothing for Tom’s snide remarks. She thought of her father, and tried desperately to remember how he had dealt with similar situations. The only image that she could conjure was the blurry visage of Ned Stark’s understanding eyes that was left in her mind after so many years. Father, the only one who ever believed that she could be anything, even if it was a wild girl who danced with a sword and hated anything fancy.

She could feel Wren’s presence stand beside her and she opened her eyes to find the first mate giving her a hard, knowing look. _‘Be the She-Wolf of the Sea.’_ rang through her head.

Before anyone knew what was happening she was across the deck, striding up to Tom. He was still talking. _‘Why was is still fucking talking?’_ Needle was out of the sheath and the pommel made hard contact with Tom’s jaw. That shut him up. The man fell to the boards below as Oren and Lorin dropped him in shock. The man barely had time to spit out a mouthful of blood before Arya kicked his shoulder and laid him out on the deck. Needle’s point found a spot to press on his neck as Arya stood over him with a boot firmly placed on his chest. Suddenly the deck was clear around them, everyone having stepped back to watch the scene unfold.

Her grey eyes bored into his as she spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. “The next time someone shirks their duties, they’ll get worse. At home, you have King Bran. On my ship, you serve me.”

Tom began to form a word, but before he could finish, Arya flicked the tip of the sharp blade up across his forehead, drawing a thin line of red across it.

“So you don’t forget.” she added calmly.

Needle was back in her sheath and Arya returned her hands behind her back, striding confidently back towards the stern. No one moved, no one spoke. They knew now was she could do, and she was glad they did. Arya may not be her father, and she may never remember what his face truly looked like or recall every word of wisdom he had shared, but she would be what he wanted her to be.

As she walked, her attention was drawn to Gendry who was standing beside the steps that lead below. He was attempting to pull on a loose shirt and looked downright miserable as he flicked his eyes around, trying to make sense of what happened. They finally landed on Arya as she shot him a stern look.

“I’m fine.” he spoke quickly before she could.

“No you’re not.” she rebutted, again loud enough for others to hear. “Your captain orders you to remain below until you’ve healed. Then you may resume duties.”

Gendry’s head tilted slightly, going back to glancing between her and the rest of the crew. Arya felt it, his pride was swelling and he was about to stick out his thick neck and try to argue her. Catching his gaze, she mouthed “Don’t”, hoping that the look in her eyes told him enough. She had made an example of one, and she would be forced to make another if he didn’t stop.

His lips parted slightly before closing again a moment later. Turning, he walked slowly back down the steps to Arya’s quarters.

She didn’t turn around, but instead resumed her path up the steps to the helm, where she resumed her usual spot beside the wheel. It took a few moments, but slowly the crew began to break up and resume their usual tasks. Tom was left to pick himself up and, when he did, kept his head low the rest of the day.

********~~~~~~~~********

The crew seemed different around her. She voiced the same thought to Wren that night at supper. Sitting back apart from the rest, Wren stretched her legs out on the deck and shrugged.

“Don’t worry over it. You had your first discipline, it’s the first time they’ve had to see that side of you. Just keep up what you’ve been doing; fair but firm. The shock will wear off soon.”

“We’re only a week out of Westeros.” Arya commented.

“Aye, and better that we’re getting this out of the way now.” her companion chuckled. “Lot a lot longer to go from the sounds of it. Might as well get things squared away before then.”

Arya mulled on those words as they fell into an easy silence. She glanced over the men sitting apart from them. Tom remained sullen and towards the rear of the grouping, never once daring to even glance at Arya since the incident. The thin red cut still stood out on his forehead. Arya hoped that it would scar and remind him of the day he crossed her.

A few minutes passed before she stood silently and walked across the dark deck to the steps. Entering her cabin, she found Gendry sitting hunched on the side of the bed as he finished his meal. A low lantern flickered gently beside him, casting shadows across his face as he turned to face her.

“You’re still wearing a shirt.” she immediately commented. He did, in fact, have on the same shirt he had struggled into when he came above deck earlier; and it annoyed her.

His eyes smiled, but it didn’t quite make it to the rest of his face. “Can’t quite do it myself. Too stiff. Aegon hasn’t been back down.”

As he spoke, she unstrapped Needle from around her waist, laying it gently on a nearby chair as she stepped towards the bed. Her boots were removed next before she walked barefoot towards the bed.

“Stand up.” she spoke softly, standing in front of him.

“Taken a liking to giving me orders, Captain?” Gendry joked as he slowly rose to his feet.

Arya didn’t reply, but waited until he was on his feet before grabbing the bottom hem of his shirt. Slowly, gently, she began to drag the loose fabric up over his torso. She could feel Gendry’s eyes on her face, but chose to keep hers on the bare skin being revealed. Her breath caught ever so slightly at the sight of the thin line of black hair descending into his pants. She hoped he hadn’t noticed. He raised his arms slowly as the shirt approached them and bent over slightly to allow her to complete the process. The skin on his shoulders didn’t look quite so red but she could tell that he was still in discomfort from the movement.

As soon as his face was visible, Arya dropped the garment to the floor and leaned up to place her hands gently on his chest and her lips on his.

It felt as though Gendry was melting against her, his forehead dropping to rest on hers and arms draping around her neck as his hands threaded through her hair. A small part of her consciousness noted the heat coming from his bare skin; and how he smelled of the sun, and salve, and the beer he had with his supper, and Gendry. He smelled like Gendry. Her heart was suddenly filled with prayers to every god she knew, old and new, thanking them that he was there with her.

Though the kiss itself was short, the pair stayed against each other for much longer. Eyes were closed and breaths mingled in the pure pleasure of just being so close. She had tried to keep her touch light on his skin, but still she felt his arms tighten around her shoulders to draw her in closer until she finally wrapped hers around his waist.

Gendry broke the silence, lowering his head to rest against her shoulder and arms dropping to her waist. "To what can I contribute this?" His voice was low and sweet and reminded her of how he had said her name that first time.

"We've got a long trip ahead of us." breathed against his neck, one of her hands raising so her fingers could gently toy with a small lock of his beautiful black hair. "It was always going to happen anyways. Might as well get it out of the way. Now lay down so I can put the salve on again."

Arya would have slept in the cabin with him that night, and stabbed anyone who mentioned it the next morning. It was hard enough just pulling away from the tight embrace they had wrapped themselves in. But, in all honesty, she wanted no more trouble that day. And Gendry still needed to heal. So she kissed him once more before he laid down, then once more as she was spreading the salve on his back, and one more time before extinguishing the lantern and taking her bed roll, walking up to the rear-castle.

The deck was still and dark now. Some of the men still chose to sleep below, while most were spread out across the deck. Korin had the first watch and stood motionless with eyes to the stars as she made up her bed against the back wall behind him. Stars soon filled her vision as well, already beginning to look so different from how they were back home.

But this was her home now. Her realm was The Dreamfyre and whatever waters it sailed in. She was the She-Wolf of the Sea. And Gendry was her mate.


	8. Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A confession: I'm a pretty late bloomer when it comes to social media. One fine example is that I only just this week started a tumblr! So, if anyone wants to hit me up on there, you're more than welcome to! Username is the same as on here. It'll take some getting used to, but I'll try to use it to update with when I'm working on a new chapter and such. Also, ya know, just general communication. 
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading! Tried to write this chapter as big as I saw it in my mind. Mostly action, but does have some fluff scattered around. I whole-heartedly promise that things will gradually get fluffier. Can't wait to see your comments! I look forwards to them after each chapter!

Wind flapped the sails of The Dreamfyre. Around them a storm had been forming, and it had shown no signs of stopping for the past three days. The crew had taken it as a bad omen. Arya herself had even harbored her own doubts as she lay listening to the rough waves at night. Lightening flashed around them in the distance, but no rain had crossed their paths as of yet.

Little Edd had taken ill the day before, which was the reason that Arya found herself standing alone at the helm, draped in a thick leather cloak as she fought to see through the sea spray. Storms had never bothered her. It was only water after all, no different than the snows that fell year-round in the North. So, she had volunteered to take over Edd’s watches.

Another crack of lightening to the south brought a dim flash across the bare deck. Even though the rest of the crew were down below having their breakfast, the thick clouds made it appear to be the middle of the night. Even when they were done, the only ones to return to the deck would be Korin to relieve her at the helm and one of the riggers to inspect the few sails that had been rolled and tied up safely against the harsh winds.

As she watched the bright lights around her, Arya suddenly sensed another presence on the deck with her. Though it was dark, she felt whoever it was moving up the steps towards her, until a tall dark form could finally be seen moving against the lighted horizon. She did not have long to worry, however, as a nearby lightning strike illuminated Gendry’s scrunched face under the woolen hood he wore. Stepping quickly over to her, Arya felt as he stepped close behind her, gently pressing his front against her rear and lowering his head over her shoulder.

“Come to enjoy the view?” she asked, having to raise her voice considerably to be heard over the roar of the wind around them.

“The only view I enjoy is you.” he replied in her ear. Arya shivered, though she couldn’t tell if it was because of the cold wind or Gendry’s voice in her ear.

Arya chuckled as she felt him move his head forwards slightly to place a warm kiss on her cheek. His hands came to rest gently on her hips, breathing a hot puff of air on her ear, a rough cheek scratching hers. As expected, they had not had many more moments to themselves after that night in her cabin nearly two weeks prior. Not surprisingly, a cramped ship with other shipmates has very little to offer in the way of privacy. But they had done their best to make do; stolen kisses in the dark hold as they passed on errands and whispered conversations in the night when Gendry had the late watch.

She leaned back against him and allowed her eyes to flutter closed as a familiar warmth began to pit itself in her stomach. She had gone to bed so many nights in the past weeks imagining him beside her. So many hours had been spent lying awake, talking herself out of retrieving him to her cabin where he belonged. Because he did belong with her; each day she could see that more and more. Arya had no idea if this was the same kind of love that her sister had pined over as a girl, and she would probably never know. But this was their love. And if there was in fact another kind, she wanted no part in it. This love would do.

Arya felt him place a foot forwards and press himself closer against her, if that was even possible. Unbidden, a moan escaped her lips, and she hoped that it was muffled by the wind. But Gendry must have felt it in her back against his chest because he turned his face to press another kiss to hers, this time beneath her ear, as he slid his hands along her arms until they were resting on hers. Suddenly he let out a small noise of surprise before wrapping his hands around her own.

“Arya, your hands are freezing!” he half chuckled. “How long have you been up here?”

“Since the morning watch.” she replied, realizing that she must have been distracted by the lightening to notice her hands going numb. “I’m fine, though. Korin will be up soon to take shift.”

“Well then that means I won’t be here long either.” Gendry said firmly, hands returning to Arya’s hips; only this time he gently moved her to the side, away from the wheel so he could step in her place. He then leaned over and pressed his lips quickly to hers. “Go on. Go warm up, captain.”

Arya knew that protesting would get her nowhere, so she offered a warm smile before turning to do just as he said. She instantly felt much better as she stepped below the deck and out of the rough wind. Her cloak was soon removed and hung on it’s peg in her cabin. Breakfast had already been set out for her on her desk, so that was the next thing she turned to.

The oats and bread had been eaten, and she was just about to break into the boiled egg when the cabin door opened. For half a second she hoped that it would be Gendry, but wasn’t as disappointed as she could have been when Wren stepped through.

“Day three of this torture.” the other woman commented, stepping over and sitting down in the chair across the desk and taking a drink from her tankard.

“Will it pass over?” Arya asked as she looked out of the large windows. It was pointless though. She could see even less than was visible above deck.

Wren shook her head, swallowing a large gulp of ale. “Probably not. We’ll hit whatever storm is forming eventually. Just have to wait and see how strong it is.”

“And the ship will hold?”

“Again,” Wren sighed. “just have to wait and see how strong the storm is.” She turned to look out the back windows as well, kicking her boots up on the desk. “Korin relieve you already?”

“No, Gendry took it until Korin was done eating.”

Wren snorted, a very amused expression on her face. “The Bull and the Wolf. Surprised there isn’t a song about that. Maybe I’ll see if Lorin can string one together.”

Arya rolled her eyes and kicked back in her own chair. “And what about you?” she asked, “Were you ever married?”

The other woman shook her head, downing the remnant of her drink before answering. “Had a guy I was sweet on back in Seagard. He was about as big as your Bull. Ran out and rolled in the grass with him every chance we got. But his Pa kept threatening to send him to the Wall, and I wasn’t ready to settle down, so he packed up and went south. Korin and I left on our first voyage that next year. Kinda wonder about that guy sometimes.”

Arya wasn’t sure how to respond, so she didn’t. Instead she sipped on her own ale and watched the blurry flashes in the window.

Wren stood, mumbling something about making sure that cargo was secured properly, and slipped out of the cabin.

She must have dozed off, because the next thing Arya knew, she was being thrown violently out of her chair and to the floor below. She almost thought that she had fallen, but the thought barely had time to register before she was jolted again. The entire ship was lurching beneath her.

Arya’s world tumbled around her as she threw on her cloak and opened her cabin door. Scrambling to the top of the steps, she could hardly keep her eyes open for the spray of the water coming up from over the railings and down from the raging sky. Overhead she heard a horribly loud snap and looked up in time to see the masts lit with lightening. One of the masts had broken at the very top, falling unreasonably slow towards the deck. It glanced off the railing and she saw a human form taken with it as it toppled downwards. Men were running frantically around her, mouths open in words and yells, but she could hear none of it over the tempest. Turning, Arya saw Wren still gripped to the helm, one leg braced against the rail and another braced behind her as she fought to maintain control of the jolting wheel.

Suddenly, a body landed against Arya and threw her to the deck below with a sharp jolt of the ship on a wave. She tried to struggle, but a very familiar voice yelled “It’s only me, Arya.” before letting up it’s grip slightly. It was then that Arya felt Gendry begin to reach underneath her, threading a rope around her waist. “If you’re going to be up here, you won’t be without this.”

Arya took in a deep breath, which was mostly sea spray, and nodded her head, allowing Gendry to continue to tie the lifeline securely around her. He had hardly finished when he surprised her entirely by placing a desperate kiss on her lips, barely leaving her time to react before he stood to his feet and helped her to hers. Then, he was gone, running off to assist with some task. Arya found where he had tied his own lifeline to and tethered hers in with his. Dragging her own slack along, Arya gripped and felt her way up to the rear-castle. Wren let out a howl towards the sky as Arya grabbed the wheel alongside the first mate.

“Ain’t it something, Stark?” Wren yelled. Arya could have sworn the woman was smiling.

“What can we do?” Arya asked, feeling her voice begin to faulter from raising it so much.

“Pray to whatever god will listen!” was the reply. “And don’t go over! We’ll ride this out until it passes, or we do!”

Arya dug in and tightened her grip on the wheel, the two women fighting against it to keep it from spinning violently out of control. She still had much to learn about sailing, but Arya could fathom that it would not bode well for the ship to spin about any way it would.

It felt as though an entire night and day had already passed. Muscle fatigue was beginning to set in, and Arya found herself beginning to sag against the helm. Wren was not quite to the same point, but her wild howls and loud comments had become fewer and fewer.

Snap. Riiiiiip.

The sound jolted Arya out of her thoughts and her eyes shot to the source. One of the mail sails had come loose from the ropes and was flapping violently in the torrential winds.

“Fuck!” Wren cursed, seemingly renewed with a second vigor. “We can’t lose that sail!”

Before she could finish talking, Nester had run up the steps, seemingly to ensure that the captain and mate had seen the damage, though there was no missing it. Water ran like a fountain down his thick beard. Arya could almost smell the worry and fatigue on him.

“It’ll be gone before we know it!” Arya heard him yell, repeating Wren’s sentiments. “If any more of those ropes break it’ll be lost to the sea!”

“Well we can’t risk sending someone up!” was Wren’s reply. “It’ll have to go!”

“We won’t have enough canvas to repla…….”

Arya was running down the steps before she could hear him say any more. She heard Wren curse loudly and looked back just in time to see her giving the helm over to Nester before taking off down behind Arya. It would be useless, though, Arya’s mind had already been made up and her hands were beginning to untie the other end of her lifeline.

“Are you mad?” Wren screamed, trying to grab Arya’s hands away from the wet ropes.

“Mad enough to sail into the west!” Arya shouted back, “Mad enough to do this!”

The rope was untied as she finished speaking. Wren paused for half a second, looking hard at her captain before grabbing the rope out of Arya’s hands, following her captain as she ran across the deck towards the rigging. They passed Gendry, Arya having only a split second to see the confused look on his face as she darted past. The momentary distraction caused her footing to slip on the wet deck, sending her down with a thump on the boards. She was back up before Wren could reach her. Arya wiped her face, unsure if what she felt under her nose was water or blood. There was no time to find out. She had reached the rigging and was scaling it as quickly as her hands would raise her. She thought she may have heard Gendry yelling after her, but nothing could be for sure with the howl of the wind and crack of lightening.

As she ascended, her world suddenly became so much bigger. Winds like she had never felt before swirled around her, grabbing at her clothes and hair, desperately trying to fling her into the chaos below. Lightening could be seen striking the sea in every direction. The black water around them thrashed about with such energy that Arya could swear that it was alive. Up and up she went, and more and more she could see. Dark shapes formed out of the swirling haze. _‘Was that something in the sea?’_ Visions jumped into her mind of childhood stories; stories of krakens and sea snakes that were larger than even the largest dragons.

_‘No. I won’t think of it.’_ she shouted to herself. Hands continued one in front of the other. _‘Fear cuts deeper than swords.’_

She reached the mast branches. The sail whipped violently beside her like a white flag waving surrender. But they would not surrender. _‘Not today. The She-Wolf does not bow to the storm.’_

Hooking her legs through the rigging as she had been shown before, Arya freed her hands to reach out and grab the sail. The force of it’s blows nearly ripped her from the ropes, and she felt the lifeline below her become taught as someone held it. With a loud yell for strength, Arya regained her balance and pulled the sail back to the mast, managing to grab onto the ropes that hung from it.

Afterwards, Arya couldn’t have said how she had managed to tie the sail so securely to the mast, or even how she had managed to get back down from the rigging, because the next thing she knew, she was back on the slick deck with Gendry pulling her firmly against himself. The whole world could have been watching on as it all burned around them, but he didn’t care one bit. His strong arms threatened to squeeze the life out of her lungs as he yelled “Fuck you, you stupid stubborn wolf!”

Arya had no time to return any sentiments, for suddenly the crew around them was shouting. Breaking away from each other, the couple saw the men with eyes turned to the sky and pointing at something white that was flitting in and out of the lightening flashes. Arya could have told them what it was long before it came close enough to see, for at once she hard Bran’s voice clear as day in her head. _“Sister.”_

The shape was, of course a raven. A large white one that came to circle the ship, darting around the masts and dodging the dips and jerks of the poor vessel. Arya ripped herself from Gendry’s grasp and ran up the stairs to the helm, grabbing it from Wren.

“We have to follow that raven!”

“Ravens at sea aren’t natural, Stark!” Wren exclaimed back, returning her hands to the wheel.

“Trust me!” she pleaded, then feeling that she must add more, “The old gods still follow us!”

The two women fought feverishly to turn the great ship to it’s port side. As luck would have it, the waves seemed to be dragging them in the opposite direction. Arya half wondered why the rudder hadn’t broken off in the strong currents. Suddenly, Gendry was behind them, and two large hands were grabbing the helm beside hers, lending their strength to the cause.

“I knew you’d be good to have along, Bull!” Wren howled, leaning into the pull as the ship began to slowly turn.

The white raven continued it’s dance in the sky, dipping and swooping along the ravenous winds, always staying just within eyesight of the crew. Still the storm continued to war around them. On the three fought, Gendry’s breaths becoming hard pants beside her as they fought to keep the ship in line with the raven. Arya began to half wonder if she really was mad, if maybe she had heard Bran’s voice because she wanted to. Maybe this raven was an ill omen that was dragging them deeper into their deaths.

But then, the sun. The magnificent sun.

One golden thread of sunlight shot it’s way through the obsidian clouds. Arya felt the light pierce it’s way through to her heart, and she howled along with Wren. More streams of brilliant light shot down, and the winds weakened their blows. Within the hour, the sea had calmed to a gentle roll and the clouds had all but blown away behind them, leaving a golden sunset at their bow.

The crew cheered, untying their lifelines and taking inventory of one another. Wren flew from the helm and jumped down the steps, grabbing Korin’s head and kissing his cheeks violently as he lifted her feet from the deck. Arya tried to look around the open sky for the raven, but it seemed to have dissipated along with the storm. When she turned towards Gendry, she found the man still holding the helm, his grip still tight on the spokes and his eyes wide as he looked into the falling sun before them.

“Gendry.” She said softly, feeling her voice too weak to speak any louder.

He didn’t look, he didn’t flinch, and Arya saw that he was still trying to ease his breathing. She knew the feeling oh so well, as did he. His nerves were coming down from the stress. His body had been under the strain of a fight and now was still trying to regain himself. She reached up to take his hand gently, and he finally looked down at her, eyes still wide and nostrils flaring from the heavy breaths he was trying to control.

“Come on, Gendry.” She spoke softly again.

She pulled him away from the helm. Someone would soon be up to take it, no doubt. But there were other things to see to as Arya led Gendry down the rear-castle steps, and then down the steps below deck.


	9. Just You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp! Here it is!
> 
> May want to roll down those windows, folks. It's about to get kinda steamy...

The cabin door barely had time to close behind them when Gendry pulled on Arya's hand, slamming her against himself. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, causing her to inhale deeply and close her eyes, her face pressed against the sopping wet fabric of his shirt.

For an eternity the only sounds to be heard was the creaking of the ship and the steady drip of water from their clothes and hair. But that was changed when Gendry, face pressed against Arya's neck, started whispering: "Stupid. Stupid. So stupid." His arms became tighter around her, if that was even possible. "This is so stupid. You could have died. We could have died."

"But we didn't." she said into his chest. "And I'm right here."

"Yeah, but what if you weren't?!" he suddenly yelled, causing her to jump and push away from him. She could only watch as Gendry took several hard steps away, stopping at the desk to pull at his hair. Shoulders heaved as he looked out the darkening windows. Dark hazy clouds dotted the purple sky; soon to be the deep black of night. Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed one of the journals from the desk and flung it across the room. The book hit the wall with a soft thump, a couple of loose pages flitting out.

"Now what good did that do?" Arya asked, suddenly feeling her own blood begin to boil. She knew what was happening, they were still feeling the high from the battle against the storm. But that still didn't excuse his sudden outburst.

Gendry didn't answer, but turned to glare at Arya. His face was now red and every visible vein protruded from his neck and flexed arms in a way that made her want to both hit him and throw him into the bed. But whatever moment had been forming between them had passed, so she finally settled on returning his rage.

"Stop throwing a fit like a child and tell me what this is about, Gend..."

"We could have been so happy, Arya!" he half screamed, cutting her off. "I was finally someone! And I had you, and a home, and we could have woken up together every morning in our own warm bed and never had to worry about one another again!"

The vague thought crossed through her mind of the crew above deck being able to hear every single word at the volume they were speaking. Good. Let them hear. The space for secrets was no more.

"But now we're on a ship, on our way to gods know where, and you're out in the middle of storms doing things like....that!" he gestured to the deck above.

"But would we have been happy if we had stayed?!" she rebutted, taking a few steps closer. "Would I have been happy? What if I didn't want to stay safe my whole life? I told you, I'm not a Lady!"

"I never wanted you to be a Lady! No more than I wanted you to wear dresses and sit by a fire all day!" His hands were stretched out to his sides, his breathing still heavy. "But I'm tired, Arya! I'm so tired of wondering each day if it will be the day I lose you again."

Arya continued to step towards him. She met his gaze and held it until she was standing in front of him once more. Almost out of instinct her hands raised to rest on his chest as his came up to rest of her hips.

"You chose to come with me." she said, voice beginning to soften. "You knew the risks and you still stayed. You said you wanted to take care of me. But you also have to trust me." One of her hands raised to his cheek, thumb raking over the dark stubble that was sprouting. His eyes closed as he leaned his head against her hand. "Gendry, you'll never lose me. No matter what comes of us."

His head turned to place a soft kiss on her palm. Eyes still closed, he nodded, breaths beginning to ease as they puffed on her skin. She felt his hands lay heavier on her hips and she stepped even closer until they were as close as they had been before. He leaned back until he was against the desk, drawing her in tightly.

Gendry mumbled something against her palm, so softly that she had to ask him to repeat himself. "Why did the gods make me fall for a wild wolf?" he repeated as a small smile crept across his lips. Deep blue eyes opened to look into hers, the fury in them replaced by adoration.

"For the same reason they gave me a bull-headed stag...who doesn't know what he wants." She smirked before leaning up to press her lips to his.

He sighed into her as the hand on his cheek slid up to run through his hair, coming around to rest on the back of his neck. "All I want is you. Just you, Arya Stark." was his reply against her lips.

"You have me, Gendry Baratheon." she whispered, the last remnants of her own anger slipping away.

His hands wrapped around for his arms to circle her yet again. Lips moved gently against one another as together they stood in the ever fading light. Arya found herself sighing as Gendry broke the kiss and instead moved to kiss a hot trail across her cheek and down onto her neck. A shiver ran through her and, even though his lips were soft and loving on her skin, it didn't help that they were still soaked.

Her hands moved down from his neck to his back, grabbing at the wet fabric of his shirt and pulling it up. She felt his breath hitch against her neck and suddenly his kisses became more heated. His head came to rest on her shoulder as he nipped gently below her ear, drawing a soft moan from her.

Arya was finally forced to pull herself back slightly, breaking contact just long enough to drag the wet shirt over his head and drop it carelessly to the floor beside her. When they came back together, it was by Gendry's arms around her waist as he effortlessly lifted her, swinging her around to sit on the desk behind him.

His lips were immediately on hers, tongue darting across them in a plea for entrance. It was granted without hesitation. Tongues lapped longingly together. More sighs and moans were drawn from each other and Arya's heart nearly stopped when Gendry pushed her knees apart and stepped between her legs. Pressing his core against hers, she whispered his name at the feel of his growing erection. That brought a smirk to his lips and he slid his hands along her thighs until they rested on her arse, holding her firmly to roll his hips into hers.

Arya's own heartbeat filled her ears at the contact and shocks of energy shot out from between her legs. She moaned softly yet again against his lips. When he repeated the action, she drew his bottom lip into her mouth and held it with her teeth, dragging her nails down his bare chest and earning a deep groan from him.

His hands were suddenly at her shirt, pulling it's bottom out of her pants and removing it as quickly as she had removed his. The sudden contact of cold air covered her skin in goosebumps and she instinctively began to wrap her arms around herself. Gendry, however, beat her to it, pressing himself completely to her and returning his lips to hers.

Bare skin rubbed against bare skin, making Arya wonder how she could have ever thought to do without it. The sunset had fully faded now and they hadn’t thought to light any lanterns, the dark cabin silent around them. But they didn't need light.

Her hard nipples pressed against Gendry's torso and she knew for sure he had noticed, for it wasn't long before a hand came up to cup one of her breasts. Though she knew the same coolness from the rain must be on him as well, she could hardly tell. Arya arched her back to press against his hot hands as strong fingers closed around the nipple and she nearly came undone then and there as he twisted it ever so gently. Lips returned to her neck, and they would have continued their descent.

But then there were voices. A loud conversation could be heard just outside the door, causing the pair to jump apart in surprise. They froze and listened to the laughter of Oren and Willis dissipate as they walked further into the hold. Gendry bolted from her arms. For a half of a second Arya worried that he was leaving her. But she should have known better, for in the dark cabin she heard him slide the door's bar to lock it tightly, his footsteps hurrying once again towards her.

Arms were once again around her, this time pulling her from the desk to stand on the floor. With another heated kiss joining their lips, his hands began working at the ties to her pants. She couldn't help but pant against him, head spinning with lust. Once they were loosened he broke the kiss to peel the fabric down her legs. More goosebumps sprung to her exposed skin, now completely bare in the darkness. As she stepped out of her pants he knelt down to move them. Arya gasped, more shocks of pleasure streaking through her core as she felt his lips press to one thigh, then the other, before he stood back up to scoop her up in his arms.

Her hands grabbed what hair they could to pull his lips to hers. Tongues instantly joined as he began to step across the cabin towards the bed.

Gendry suddenly yelped against her mouth and she felt him lurch. The realization that his urgency had caused him to run his foot into the bed brought a sudden peal of laughter from her. She dropped her head to his shoulder and chuckled into it. Feeling him huff as he limped dramatically, she was soon surprised when he released his arms and dropped her completely onto the bed.

"That was very un-lord like." Arya commented with a grin as she scooted back onto the bed. She watched his vague silhouette move in the grey space beside the bed; and it wasn't long before she felt his weight on the bed beside her, followed by his arms returning around her.

"My apologies. Let me make it up to milady."

He was as bare as she was now and she figured he had removed his own pants before joining her in the bed. _'Our bed now.'_

The chill of the storm felt long gone from his body as it lay hot against hers. Their legs tangled and his hard erection pressed in need on her thigh. All progress came to a halt and Arya was almost surprised at themselves. Alone in the dark, naked on the bed, they lay content in one another. Soft kisses being exchanged along with lazy touches and half muttered forms of each other's names. They had each other, and that's all they needed. She could have fallen asleep right then and have been perfectly content.

But she didn't. And neither did he.

After an amount of time that neither had measured, Gendry began to drag one of his hands down her body, the other arm still securely wrapped around her. Arya stilled her lips against his, reveling in the feel of his beautifully calloused hand on her skin, dipping lower and lower until it came to slide across her thigh. She didn't even have to think for her leg to move to the side. Fingers dipped lower until they found their destination and she sucked in a breath as he trailed one of them upwards along the wet slit.

Slow. He was moving too slow. She moved to roll her hips against his hand. The added contact brought a low moan to her lips. It must have encouraged him because his head dropped down to bite softly on the skin of her shoulder as his fingers delved between her wet folds and across the tender bundle that sat within. Her hips rolled again, this time in earnest as her head rolled over to press open mouthed kisses along the back of his neck.

She soon lost contact, however, as his own kisses dropped lower onto her chest. He took a hard nipple in his mouth and Arya could have sworn she died.

Three times they had lain together before this night, their first being the Long Night. The second was two days after, when the bodies and damage were being cleared and they found themselves exhausted but unable to sleep except beside the other. And the third was the early morning before the feast when he proposed, when she found her way into his room after nightmares had yet again left her mind in a haze. But all three times had been quick and needy, each wanting nothing more than the closeness and escape only the other could provide. Less thought had been given to exploring the other and instead in becoming one whole instead of two broken halves. Now, though. Now was different. They had each other for as long as they needed.

Arya had to bite down on her lip to keep herself from yelling his name. This was her Gendry, her mate, and she wanted to shout it for the world to hear. His fingers continued their soft strokes along her wet clit while his tongue swirled around the nipple inside of his mouth. She could feel her end starting to build in her nerves. The warmth pulled and tugged at her core with every ministration. It felt such a shame to stop him, but she wanted more.

Grabbing his head in both hands, she pulled it back up to hers. The sudden contact of cold air on her wet nipple made her suck in a deep breath as he pressed their foreheads together. Somehow she just knew that a smug grin had snaked across his lips.

He moved his hips against her, arousal digging harder into her thigh. Her hands slid around him and down the smooth skin of his back before coming to rest on his rear. It would forever amaze her how a smith with such well-worked hands could have such soft skin elsewhere. She grabbed at the tender flesh and pulled, urging him on top of her. His lips were back on hers in another searing kiss as his body moved to cover hers.

Between his firm warmth above and the soft bed beneath, Arya felt herself becoming lost to the rest of the world. Nothing else existed for her; not the boat, not the sea, not the land behind them nor the land to come. Just Gendry and his skin on hers.

"Arya..." he breathed across her lips, pressing his own to them before she could respond. His hips rocked against hers and brought a deep moan from both. Her knees raised to wrap around his waist. She needed him closer.

He sought no further invitation, pulling back just enough to reach down and line himself up at her entrance, mumbling something against her lips about how wet she was, though the only thing capturing her attention was the burning need to be a part of him again.

Lips paused against each other as he began to lower his hips. Her breath stilled, cherishing the feeling of his member filling her until their hips rested together once more. He lay heavy on her and his head dropped to the crook of neck, seeming to take in the feeling as well, though maybe, she then thought, he was attempting to regain himself before he started moving again.

She didn't want to give him that chance, though. This needed to happen, for both of them. Her knees tightened on either side of his waist as she rolled her hips upwards into him. She felt him take in a deep breath against her skin. He pulled back to look down at her. Arya suddenly wished that they had a light, any light, so that she could look into his deep eyes.

Gendry lifted his hips, though the parting was not for long as he soon lowered them to fill her again. The action was repeated. And then again. And again, until they found themselves in a steady rhythm; steady as the waves that rocked against the ship, steady as their hearts that pounded in their chests.

Gendry suddenly let out a deep moan, raising up to rest his hands on either side of her head as his thrusts became harder. The shocks of pleasure were now a growing storm in her core. One hand slid between them to find where they were joined and stroke at the nub just above, her other hand gripping tightly to his forearm. She was close, so close, and she could tell that he was too. Turning her head, she placed gasping kisses along his arm.

Whatever chill had been left on their skin was long gone now. A thin layer of moisture could be felt as she moved her free hand down to grip his thigh, urging him on. Gendry's head returned to her neck. His breath was ragged in her ear and his teeth eventually found that tender spot just below it.

That was all it took for her. The darkness of the cabin was suddenly filled with flashes of color as she came undone under him and around him. Fingers dug hard into his thigh, her mouth pressed into his shoulder to muffle her cries of pleasure. Amidst the surge of feelings coursing through her, she heard his breathing begin to catch. Thrusts became less steady until his hips finally jerked hard against hers with his own end. Her name was on his lips yet again, slurred and drunk in arousal.

Arya found herself unable to move, unable to speak, unable to perform any action other than breathe as Gendry's body settled easily on top of hers as he came down from his own high. The charge in the air was beginning to dissipate. Senses slowly began to come back, her ears taking in the gentle lap of waves outside of the boat, nose filling with the smell of salt and sweat and their lovemaking. Her eyes took in the darkness around them, broken only by the dim grey from the windows. But it was her skin that took in the most. Gendry's warm body completely covered her as they lay panting on the mattress. He was hers. Hers. Where he belonged. With her.

Arya began to think that he had drifted off to sleep. He had made no movement save for breathing since settling on her. But as she raised a hand to run along his damp back she felt his lips begin placing light kisses on her shoulder, and it wasn't long after that he gently slid over to her side. The loss of warm contact brought on a new wave of goosebumps and she sat up to grab one of the woolen blankets to pull over them.

As soon as she had laid back down his arms wrapped around her, bringing her to rest against his chest. Neither of them spoke. They didn't need light, and they didn't need words. Nothing else could be spoken that hadn't been conveyed already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #boat sex done right #sorry not sorry
> 
> But seriously, though, I really wasn't planning to have all that so soon in the story. But, what's the first commandment of writing? All together, class! "Thou shalt let the characters drive the bus!"
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know how you like it! I'm actually pretty curious as it's been a good long while since I've written anything of that caliber....


	10. New Shores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up! Hopefully gonna be going to paramedic school here in the next couple of months, so things have been busy getting ready for that. Upmost apologies in advance if the next chapter gets delayed as well!

_Night. But not darkness. Not to a wolf’s eyes. The forest was alive before her, filled with a million ghosts and shadows. A night wind rolled through the upper canopy of the trees she ran under. A million smells filled her nostrils: deer and owl, warm earth and fern, humans and their blood. Old they all felt to her, but also new. Something was different in the air around her. Not frightening, not wrong, but different._

_Over logs and rocks she leapt, circling around the foreign trees, underbrush reaching out to graze her fur. Even her body felt different. She would have called this a wolf dream, it felt real and vivid, but she was not Nymeria. No, she was a little smaller now, leaner in the face and flanks and the occasional pull at her hip from where a wound must be, but just as fierce and wild. She had a different name too. It was somewhere in her head, though she could not yet hear it. Others ran behind her. She could hear them following her every track. She did not turn to see them, but she knew who they were. Fierce and proud they charged. Her wild pack taking a survey of their land. Her land. Wherever it may be._

The dream broke around her and Arya slowly found her senses replaced with the feel of a soft bed beneath her and woolen blankets around her. Her eyes opened to reveal her cabin, dimly lit in the early morning sunrise that was coming to peek through the windows. It was as she left it the night before, loose items littering the floor where they had been thrown by the storm, along with her clothes…

The small piles of wet fabric came into her vision at the same time that she felt movement on the bed behind her. She instantly remembered the night before, warmth and energy growing between her legs at the memories. Rolling over gently, she was met with the sight of Gendry’s sleeping body. Lying on his stomach, the blankets had ended up in a messy bunch around his legs. His face looked so stupid, she thought, mouth hanging open for gentle snores to roll out, hair flattened on one side of his head from sleeping on it too long, faint wrinkle lines crossing along his face and back from the linens; so stupid, that she could have had him all over again.

She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, reaching a hand over to run a finger down his backbone, tracing the grove made by his muscles. The sunburn had healed well and left behind a very light tan across his upper body. As she reached the region where the grove dipped into his ass crack Gendry suddenly jerked and pushed himself up on his palms, looking up at Arya with a frown and half opened eyes. But it only took mere seconds before his frown was replaced by a warm smile. He lowered himself back down to the mattress and slid to lay on his side, reaching a warm hand up to pull Arya back down against him.

“Hullo.” he sighed softly as he nestled her face into her chest. “I had the best dream.”

“Oh?” she asked, eyes slipping closed at the close comfort be brought.

“Mmhm. Was sailing around Dorne on a pleasure cruise, lying in the sun beside a naked Northern beauty.”

Arya chuckled against his chest. “Well you got the naked part right.”

“And the beauty part too.” He pulled back just enough to lean down and brush his lips against hers.

When they parted, she pressed her face to his shoulder, his own coming to rest on top of hers. They kept the silence for several more minutes in the calm morning. Maybe she would tell him of her dream later. But not now. This was too nice to disturb. The sunrise began to grow on the other side of the window glass, illuminating more and more until it shone proudly on the pair.

Arya finally sighed and reluctantly pushed back. “We should probably get up.”

Gendry nodded slowly, lips forming a sad half-smile as he reached up to run his fingers through her messy hair. “Arya…if we can’t…make a habit of this, I’ll understand. You’re the captain. You’ve got an example to set. Some might not take so well to their captain bedding one of the crew. So…” His rambling cut off when Arya suddenly sat up and shoved his shoulder, forcing him onto his back. He watched with wide eyes and quickening breaths as she moved to straddle his waist.

Leaning down with a hand placed on either side of his head, she kissed him passionately. Tongues lashed together briefly before she took his between her teeth and pulled gently. Gendry froze against her. When she released it, she opened her eyes to find Gendry’s still closed. And when he finally opened them, she found them so dilated that hardly any blue could be seen.

“You’re my mate, Gendry.” she stated, voice low and husky. The words brought his lips to close and throat to roll as he swallowed deeply. “I want them to know it. No secrets. No lies. I took you into my bed, and that’s how things will be.” She pressed her hips down against his. Satisfaction filled her chest when she felt his growing arousal beneath her.

Gendry nodded slowly, hands on her hips gripping them tighter. “As you say, mi’lady.” A small smirk rose to his lips. Arya noted something behind his eyes, but she reacted too late.

His hands on her hips jerked, causing her to tumble off him and back down onto the mattress. As quick as could be, he was on top of her, strong arms pinning her down. Arya couldn’t help but smile lightly as he began to peck hot kisses over her face and neck. Her hands came to rest lazily on his back in surrender. His kisses slowed as they descended onto her chest. The smile was replaced by moans as his lips found a nipple and took it in. His teeth grazed across it before taking it and tugging gently in the same manner that she had treated his tongue. Her back arched against him as a hand came to hold the back of his head. Arya knew for a fact that having him pleasure her in this way would never grow old.

Releasing it, he placed one more gentle kiss on the hard nub before lowering even further. Her eyes fluttered closed as feather light kisses were placed over the scars that streaked her torso. As his lips brushed them, he raised a warm hand to trace along the ones he had missed. The feelings he was bringing her were so sensual that it was almost a shame when some of his stubble scratched just gently enough on her side to tickle.

She couldn’t help but to jerk away and yelp, the yelp followed shortly by peals of laughter when he leaned down to repeat the action.

Gendry’s chin slowed against her skin, causing her to look down. He was smiling up at her. Just smiling. Arya raised an eyebrow in response.

“You’re laughing.” he said softly, resting his chin on her stomach as he continued to smile up at her.

“Yeah? And?”

“It’s been so long since you’ve laughed at me like that.” He turned his face to nuzzle it against her skin.

It would be the first morning since the start of the voyage that she hadn’t risen with the sun to train.

********~~~~~~~~********

_Voyage of The Dreamfyre into the Sunset Sea_

_Captain's Log: Day 29_

_Passed through a large storm on the day before this. Battered by hard winds before rain came. Suffered minimal damage to one mast and some sails._

_Lost one soul overboard when mast broke. Marsh Rivers will be remembered as a loyal man and born sailor. Family will be sought and notified if a return voyage is made._

_Voyage of The Dreamfyre into the Sunset Sea_

_Captain’s Log: Day 30_

_Land has been sighted this morning. We believe it to be the three islands that were found in this region on a prior voyage from Westeros. Crew became so excitable that wine casks were depleted within the hour. Expected to reach the islands by midday with strong winds._

_No other foul weather has befallen us. Prayers that no more will come._

_********~~~~~~~~********_

Arya stood near the helm with Wren, watching the men unstrap the lifeboats and lower them down into the gentle waves. She had changed into comfortable clothing, a simple white cotton shirt and canvas pants. Needle sat reliably on one hip, the other hip covered by the satchel she had packed.

There they sat, waiting for her: Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. It had been a woman captain, not unlike herself, who had discovered them long before she was born. But no other ship had dared the trip she had just taken to find them again. _‘Perhaps it’s only women who are meant to find them?’_ She knew the thought came from the giddiness she was trying so desperately to conceal, but all the same she relished the thought of being only the second captain to find these new shores.

The thought of Jon came to her head, and she wondered briefly if he had felt the same way when he saw The Wall for the first time. _‘He would love to be here too.’_

Once they had reached better sight of the islands, it hadn’t taken long to find a suitable bay to anchor in, just off from the larges of the three. From the deck, white and rocky beaches seemed to cover the majority of this island, with dense patches of trees and brush further up. They were small islands, small enough that Arya deeply hoped that she would be able to explore every inch of them. Some white gulls had been spotted around the island and it hadn’t been long before a few of them came to circle the ship in curiosity. Other birds had been spotted, new birds with bright colors, as well as some wildlife that darted just past the outlying brush.

"We'll give you until sundown before we worry." Wren nodded. "If you're not back, or we don't see a fire, we'll come looking."

"We'll light a big one then." Arya smirked.

"But, fair warning, if you end up falling off some cliff or in the belly of some savage, I'm keeping the ship."

"Understood." Arya chuckled lightly. "Surprised you're not planning on deserting us here and heading back home."

"Are you kidding? And try to make it through another squall like that without your Bull to help steer?" Wren gave an exaggerated shudder, earning another chuckle from Arya.

The mood changed when Wren reached over and clapped Arya on the back, pausing to give her shoulder a light squeeze. "Be safe, Stark."

"I can't promise I will, but I'll make it back all the same." Arya raised up her own hand to rest it on Wren's shoulder.

Two lifeboats now bobbed in the water beside The Dreamfyre. Gendry held Arya's hand tightly as she swung a leg over the side, finding her foothold on the rope ladder and making her descent. She found Sal already in the boat, who took her hand and helped her step inside before doing the same for Gendry who came down after her. Arya couldn’t help but take note that he had decided to bring along his large black Warhammer, carried easily in one hand. As soon as his items were placed in the boat, he reached back to help Quint descend the ropes. The boy had begged and begged for Gendry to take him along almost as soon as the island was sighted. And since Ralph wanted nothing to do with the new shores, Gendry finally agreed on responsibility for the one boy.

Wren hugged Korin and made some hand motions to him, himself returning with more hand motions before climbing down into Arya’s boat. Once loaded with five people apiece, the two lifeboats soon began to drift away from the larger vessel.

Arya suddenly felt small as she looked up at The Dreamfyre. She hadn't seen it in it's entirety since she stepped aboard in Westeros. Even now, it looked different. The direwolf sails were sun bleached and the figurehead's mouth was missing a couple teeth from the storm. But still, it's was hers. Like an old friend who had carried her safely for so long. Like Gendry.

She turned to look at him, just in time to see the look of quiet disgust he gave to the oars before taking them up.

"It's only to the shore." she smirked, reaching out a foot to tap against his leg.

It was during the second of their three nights together at Winterfell that they had each shared their stories with the other; of her time in Braavos at The House of Black and White and how, for a time, she became No One, and his of the escape from Dragonstone and return to Kings Landing before going north of The Wall with Jon. She had been angry afterwards. Furious. And wanting very badly to run out and revive the Red Woman just so that she could be the one to kill her again. But Gendry had held her face and kissed her so sweetly that she lost all train of thought on the matter.

Gendry rolled his eyes and set his jaw, leaning forwards to lower the oars before pulling them back into his chest. The shirt he had chosen was sleeveless, and Arya wanted to thank him immensely for the decision to wear it. Muscles flexed and rippled with his movements in a way that made her ache for him all over. Korin sat behind Gendry and must have seen the way Arya was looking at him, because she soon shifted her eyes to see Korin pointing at Gendry before giving her an eyebrow wiggle and two thumbs up. He was repaid with her satchel being tossed at his head.

Clouds were beginning to fill the sky in a way that suggested rain. Arya didn't have to ask to know that everyone was glad that they were anchored in the bay and not still out in open water. Nearly an hour of rowing had passed before some of the men jumped out into shallow water to pull the boats up onto the white beach. Arya held back in the lifeboat as the men began to unpack, looking out in wonder at the sand stretching up before her, ending where tall trees and rocks took over the landscape. It felt foreign. It felt dangerous. It felt as though it had acknowledged her and was beckoning her further in.

Gendry stepped beside the boat, catching her gaze with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. Taking it, she stood and stepped out of the boat. This was it. The first step onto new lands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you can expect to see a new Gendrya based project rolling out within the next week! It'll be my first attempt at an AU fic, and probably won't be more than 4 or 5 chapters long(I really don't think I could make it any longer with the premise I have in mind), but it'll be a nice writing exercise and I'm so excited to share it with you guys!


	11. Books and Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading and commenting! You have no idea how much joy it brings me that you guys are joining me on this journey with our favorite ship!

Nester lumbered out of the underbrush and onto the beach, arms loaded with scraps of dry driftwood. “Place feels nice.” He pondered out loud in his deep thrumming voice.

“Nice enough now.” Willis half agreed from beside him. “But what about after dark?”

Arya listened in silence, her eyes darting up from the journal and book that spread across her lap. She watched the two men deposit their respective armloads of wood onto the growing pile.

The group had several jobs to accomplish during their time on shore. Aside from just the exploration and discovery, fresh provisions would have to be gathered and ferried back out onto the ship. Yes, this was new shores, but these had already been discovered, and Arya was just sure that there was more to be found. But, first thing, they had to ready a fire for nightfall.

“What did the last folks find here anyways?” Nester asked as he dropped himself down onto the sand. “Who was their captain? Ella?”

Willis shrugged. “Naw, some Lord or another. Runnin’ from the Targs.”

“Elisa Farman.” Arya spoke up. “She brought three ships, but only one returned. One sunk in a storm. Elisa sailed her’s further into the West.”

“Right where we’re headed.” Tom grumbled, looking out into the open water. He was getting more grumpy by the day.

Arya eyes narrowed at him before they went back down to her book and journal. She was doing her best to sketch out some of the plants that lay along the treeline. Her hands always felt too clumsy when she held charcoal to paper, but she intended to do her best. Maybe some maester down the road could make some sense out of it. A few pictures and descriptions were added to the journal until she was interrupted yet again, this time by Quint.

The young boy had been absolutely ecstatic ever since his feet had touched the sandy beach. There was simply no keeping him still, so the men had taken to sending him on errands to run along the beach and find more driftwood for the night. So far, he had returned with two pieces of wood, a rock with a hole in it, a dead fish, and a large shell that shone golden specks if you held it just right in the sun. And still his energy had yet to run out.

“What’s that?” he asked curiously, leaning over Arya’s lap to look at the page she was on.

“A book.” She smirked.

“Well I know THAT!” he huffed. Arya couldn’t help but note the same unmistakable Flea Bottom accent that Gendry still had. “What’s it bout?”

“The people who found this place before us. Grandmaester Tarly gave me this book to use. Let’s us know what to expect.”

“Does it say what’s on this island?”

“Right here.” Arya flipped back a few pages to one with an illustration of some wild pigs and large lizards.

Quint let out an “Oooooo” and leaned closer to inspect the image. “Does it say what’s further West?”

“No.” she sighed, shifting the book so that he could see it better. “This was as far as they got before one ship went back. We don’t know what Elisa found when she sailed further.”

“Maybe she didn’t find anything.” Quint proposed, one grubby hand coming up to run along the words on a page. “Maybe they just sailed and sailed and sailed until they fell over the edge.” He let his fingers drop off the edge of the book to emphasize.

“Maybe.” Arya agreed.

Her mind began to drift off to the possibility. It wasn’t as though the thought hadn’t crossed into her head before. Indeed, it had. Along with the possibility of finding a land which was so vastly different from her own that it consumed them before they had a chance to turn back around.

“Hey! Boy! Didn’t we give you a job to do?” Oren’s gravely voice broke her out of her thoughts.

“I did do it!” Quint retorted, sneering at the man.

“No, you didn’t! You brought us a bunch of rubbish! Now go on back and leave Captn’ alone.”

“Make me!” Quint shouted and puffed out his chest. Arya raised an eyebrow. If not for the boy’s sandy blonde hair and lanky build, Arya would have seriously questioned Gendry as to whether or not Quint was his son. His eyes were just as blue, and he acted and spoke enough like the young bull she had befriended all those years ago when her world was so much smaller.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Gendry emerged from the underbrush. Ropes were slung over one shoulder and he bent forwards with the weight as he pulled. Behind him slid a large tree trunk, as wide as Gendry’s shoulders were. The plan was to bring it back to the ship and strip it down to repair the broken mast.

His shirt had been removed at some point and draped over his shoulder under the rough ropes, so as not to chafe as he pulled. As more of the trunk emerged from the brush, Big Edd appeared at it’s other end, his feet digging into the soft sand as he pushed with all his might. His own shirt had been removed as well, but Gendry was the one who held Arya’s attention.

He payed her no mind, though, nor anyone. Fixed on his job, he threw his weight and muscle against the trunk behind him as the pair inched it across the beach. The humid air had brought on a thick layer of sweat over his back and shoulders that shone in the bright afternoon sun. Gendry continued towards the water until he was nearly waist deep in it. The trunk, as planned, eased it’s burden and began to float and bob in the gentle waves.

“Alright.” Gendry huffed, stepping closer to the shore but still holding the ropes. “We moved it out. Now I ain’t rowing it back.”

No one moved immediately. Arya suspected that they were getting used to having solid land beneath them for the first time in a month. Finally, after looking around at one another and making Gendry more than a little annoyed, Sal and Oren stood up and began to slide one of the lifeboats out into the water.

Arya watched and waited for Gendry to hand off the ropes to Sal before trudging his way back up out of the water. His shirt was still off, and now his wet breeches clung so beautifully to his legs…and elsewhere. He must have noticed her looking because, sitting down on the sand beside her, he leaned into her and whispered in her ear, low enough that Quint couldn’t hear: “Yes, it’s all still there for you, Captain.”

Arya couldn’t help the light blush that rose to her cheeks as she nudged him with her elbow. “Good.”

“Whatcha lookin at there?” Gendry then asked Quint, who’s attention was turned back to the book’s illustration.

“A book.” Quint mumbled, eyes still on the picture, causing Arya to laugh softly. She pulled the book out of her lap and sat it on Quint’s, who immediately began flipping the pages for more pictures.

“Think that one will do?” she asked Gendry, nodding towards the log that was now on it’s way out to The Dreamfyre.

“I hope so. Or else I’m sure Wren will let us know.” Gendry sighed, lying back on the sand and moving his hands up behind his head and closing his eyes. “But I won’t be doing that again today. If she wants another, she can wait until tomorrow.”

“In that case, she’ll just have to make due.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“Because her captain is exploring the islands tomorrow. And I won’t be doing so without my Bull to accompany me.” She looked down to see Gendry cracking an eye open to look up at her. The image of him lying there beside her caused her mind to put him back in her bed on the boat, where he was hard and eager for her, and she couldn’t help but to lean down and kiss him deeply. One of his hands came up to thread gently through her hair. Her tongue slipped out to taste the salt on his lips, bringing from him a soft sigh.

The men knew by know. How could they not? They had emerged from the cabin together that morning after they had lain together, in full view of the gods and crew. There had been some odd looks and whispers. Little Edd must have thought it a clever quip when he made mention of the “wild wolf mounting her prey”. It had taken only half a second for Arya to flatten him against the forecastle. He apologized immediately and no one had mentioned their union again, at least not in her presence. Wren had then fully assured Arya that evening at supper that there was no need to worry, but that moon tea was in very short supply.

Arya reluctantly broke the kiss when she heard Quint ask, “What’s this say?”

She turned, finding his eyes still glued firmly to the page, and looked to where his finger was pointing. “While the Sun Chaser sailed further West, the Lady Meredith, returned east. It was taken upon by leviathans and damaged, which delayed it’s return to Westeros.”

“Lev-ia-tha-ns…..wow…..”was all Quint replied, resting his chin on his knuckles as he looked down son the illustration of a great sea beast under the waves.

Arya looked at him instead, watching his wide blue eyes filled with the wonder on the page. “Quint…would you like to learn how to read?”

The question finally pulled his attention away from the book and back to Arya. “Do you think I can?”

“I know you can. I’ll teach you.” She said. “I can even teach your brother too.”

Quint didn’t even give her a second look. The book was shoved back into her lap and he was back to his feet, running off and kicking sand up towards her, all the while screaming, “Hey! Captain Stark is gonna teach me to read! Just like a Lord!”

********~~~~~~~~********

“I thought I heard the old man say,

Leave her Jonny, leave her!

Tomorrow ye will get yer pay,

And it’s time for us to leave her!”

Nester kept up the lively tune on his fiddle, bellowing out the words to the song. Arya assumed that it must be a popular song with sailors, because most of the men joined in with the next part.

“Leave her, Jonny, leave her!

Oh, Leave her, Jonny, leave her!

For the voyage is long and the winds don’t blow,

And it’s time for us to leave her!”

The driftwood popped and whistled on the large fire they were circled around. Arya stretched out her feet and let the heat lick at her bare toes. The world was slowly growing darker around them, and with the departure of the sun came a damp coolness to the island that brought the group a little closer to the comfort of the high flames. This was a new place, and with it came new sounds. If Arya’s ears had been that of a wolf, they would have been in constant motion following the odd noises that came from the treeline behind them.

She would have turned to Gendry for a distraction, but he had been called to return to the boat after the trunk had been floated out. Upon further inspection, Little Edd and Bern had discovered that there was more damage to the mast than they had thought, so Gendry was needed to furnish some fittings and help in carving the trunk down.

And so, she waited. Her mind had been made up even when Sal rowed back and, shrugging, told her that Gendry had decided to stay on the boat to get more done. The men were all in good spirits, so it took no time at all for them to drift off around the fire. That’s when she stood, as silent as a thought in motion across the sand, and with one swift push, the lifeboat was gliding across the sand and into the still water. If any of the men had heard her began to row, it was too late now. She was out of the firelight and into a sea of starlight.

When she finally glided up to the side of The Dreamfyre her arms ached and head swam from fatigue. But the rope was tied and up the rope ladder she ascended, just as quiet as before, stepping onto the deck with no more sound than a bird landing on it. But she needn’t have worried, as there was already sound on the deck of the boat. It was up on the rearcastle that Arya found Gendry standing beside Pots’ fire-ring, embers glowing brightly on his tired face as he puffed on it with a pair of bellows. She sat down on the steps, remaining in the darkness as she watched him with curiosity. He preformed the usual tasks, reaching into the embers with his tongs and pulling out a strip of steel, which he then laid across a small anvil and began to gently hammer. The darkness kept her from watching the play of his muscles as he worked, but his face was still kept in view by the fire. He was scruffy now and his hair was as long as it had been when he was younger. But his face was no longer that of an angry young apprentice. He was a man now, a man who had seen heartache and death, same as her.

“You’d think after all this time you’d know that I can tell when you’re watching me.”

His words hardly surprised her. She stood and stepped closer as he dropped the steel into a bucket of water. He closed the gap and placed his hands on her hips, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “May I ask what brings you back from your new island?”

“It’s too new.” Was her reply, hands resting on his chest. “New noises, new smells. Can’t sleep.”

“Is Arya Stark scared of some odd noises?” he chuckled.

“No!” she rebutted firmly, shoving at his chest. “It’s just…different.”

“I see…..” Gendry said as he turned back to his work, the tone of his voice suggesting that he didn’t quite believe her.

“Well what about you?” Arya crossed her arms and leaned against the railing. She watched him remove the iron strap from the bucket and place it back into the fire. “You’re still here on the boat. What are you doing still up anyways?”

“Bern needs some fittings to hold the arms on the mast. Wanted to get them all finished before tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow?”

“Because you wanted me with you when you explored.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t let mi’lady down.”

Arya stood and looked hard at him. “You need your sleep.”

“If only it was that easy. Besides,” he turned his eyes up to her, the orange fire dancing in the blue of them. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep without you here either.”

Arya bit her lower lip, eyes locking to his. She had nearly forgotten this feeling, the one welling up in the pit of her stomach and nearly bringing her to cry, the feeling of having someone who cares so much that they loose sleep over you, the feeling of being truly loved. She could have kissed him right then, but she wanted to do more.

“How can I help?”

“What?”

“How can I help finish your work?”

Gendry paused and looked into the fire, his own eyes displaying a turning of emotions before he finally smiled and handed her his tongs. “Keep the metal in the fire and pump on the bellows until I tell you to stop, then hand it to me.”

And so that’s how the next couple of hours were passed. Arya heated the steel while Gendry hammered, then they would switch when he dropped his piece into the water so that she could re-heat the newly hammered steel while he worked on the fresh fittings she gave him. The pair talked and laughed easily. Arya once reached over with the tongs and used them to pinch Gendry’s arse, causing him to screech and drop his hammer into the fire. He repaid the favor, though, by waiting until she was distracted by the stars before running over and rubbing his sooty fingers on her cheeks. She must have looked for all the world like a painted face wild woman chasing him around the rearcastle after he did that. Her speed finally caught up with him and she locked her arms tightly around his waist, throwing what little weight she could against him and knocking him off balance and down to the deck. As expected, lips soon found each other through the laughter. Laughing then became soft moans and their hands slowed from quick grabs to gentle pets. More soot marks were left on Arya’s face and clothes. Her own marks were left on him in return in the form of nips to his firm shoulders. It was a wonder that they were able to tear themselves apart from each other to finish the work, but it was finally done.

It was well into the third watch when Gendry threw his hammer down and Arya doused the fire with the water from the bucket. They both sat down with a collective sigh against the railing, a large pile of fittings lying a few feet away.

“Is it just me, or do the stars look bigger out here?” Gendry asked. Arya followed his gaze up to the heavens.

“They do. Even in the North they never seemed this bright.”

His arm came to wrap around her and guided her to lie down as he did. Arya hadn’t yet realized how tired she truly was until she rested her head on his shoulder and felt the sleep pulling at her eyelids. Her arms ached from the rowing, and then from helping him at his trade. She hadn’t even been the one doing the hammering, but her hands felt tight and weak from the heat and the weight of the metal. She made a mental note to appreciate his ability more in the future.

“Arya,” he said, his own voice sounding groggy to her. “Answer me honest, do you plan on going back?”

She closed her eyes and hugged his chest a little tighter. Didn’t he know already, the stubborn man? He was becoming to her the only home she needed. But she knew that’s not what he meant when he asked. “Perhaps. Though that depends on what we find. But I would like to see Sansa again…”

Gendry hummed and tightened his arm around her. The world began to fade away around her, between the fatigue in her body and the gentle rock of the ship in the bay and Gendry’s heart beating as steady as his hammer.

********~~~~~~~~********

Quint ran ahead of them down the beach, making Arya and Gendry both feel very outdone as they fought to wake themselves up under the climbing sun. Her satchel was slung over one hip, Needle on the other, and Gendry was using his hammer as a walking stick in the loose sand.

“I want to walk the beach for as far as we can around the island.” She announced. “If we get to a point where the beach runs out, we can start dipping into the trees.”

Gendry nodded, turning his head to the right to glance beyond the tall ferns that grew at the edge.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything interesting yesterday?” she asked with a sigh.

“I’m positive.” He said. “Just some bright birds, yellows and greens mostly, and some tracks that looked like hogs, but that’s it.”

Arya felt almost disappointed. She wanted something new. There were bright birds back home, and plenty of stupid pigs. But she adjusted her satchel and continued to follow Quint down the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who haven't seen, I've started another Gendrya fic called Love Is a Four Legged Word. I'd love it if you checked it out as well! It'll be updated next before I update this fic.


	12. Further In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fanfiction Author Appreciation Day, everyone! Gosh, I'm so freakin lucky to have so many of you guys who can write some awesome stories! Just know that you guys never fail to make my crazy days a little bit brighter.
> 
> I'm kinda regretting having Quint tag along for the exploration because I'm realizing that there could be soooooo much smut happening on this island right now. But, oh well. I guess that's what happens when you've got a kid in real life too...
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and showing this fic as much love as you guys have!

Two raindrops tapped heavy on the paper. Arya groaned and brushed at them, causing the charcoal to smudge. She cursed and ripped the page out to crumple it and shove it down into her satchel. It had been sprinkling rain for the past hour now, but never hard enough to push them to find cover. It even smelled like rain. Arya found herself wishing that it would. Then maybe it wouldn't be so humid.

Her gaze went from the blank page back to the flower bush growing at the top of the small rise where she sat. How hard could it be to draw a simple flower? It's large yellow petals reminded her of something that Sansa would have loved to receive as a girl, delivered by the hand of some valiant knight on a mighty steed. Arya herself had always been more partial to the blue Winter Roses that grew in the glass gardens. _‘Would Gendry have ever brought me Winter Roses?’_ She reached a hand up to brush the loose hairs off of her forehead and readjusted the journal on her lap. It was no use, though. The second the charcoal touched the page it felt all wrong. Arya let out a deep breath and shoved the charcoal back in her satchel before plucking one of the flowers and laying it on the page. She let her fingers run over it. It's aroma drifted gently to her nose, mingling with the salt and rain, and she couldn't help but smile.

They had walked along the shoreline for the better part of the morning before finding that it ended against some rocky cliffs. Arya would have proudly scaled the rocky face to see what sat at it's top, but Gendry refused the heights and she wouldn't dare risk Quint falling to his death, so the trio struck out into the foliage of the island. Surprisingly, it held more hills and low canyons than she had thought before. Though the island was still small, and it's two sisters smaller still, Arya still felt as though she was a world away from anything but Gendry and Quint.

Arya sat quiet in thought, but suddenly felt eyes on her as she closed the pages around the flower. She looked up quickly. Head swiveled around to find the source and hand raised to steady on Needle's hilt. They had seen some small hogs on the edge of the beach, but nothing else since. Nothing that would be this threatening to her senses. Foliage around her sat still, and she heard only the faint voices of her companions. Her breathing halted in an attempt to sense more. Eyes strained to see any break in the pattern of her surroundings.

Shoulders sagged when she saw that it was Gendry who's gaze she had felt. The man and boy were still where they had been when she last looked up, down at the bottom of the rise seeing who could throw pebbles the farthest. He gave a small wave before Quint drew his attention back with some question about dogs.

She clenched her eyes and shook her head before opening them to look back down at her flowers. Her hand released it's grip on Needle, and it wasn't until then that she realized how hard her fingers were gripping it. This island had her on edge, and she shouldn't be. It wasn't dangerous. Didn't feel dangerous. But all the same she was finding herself less and less able to let her guard down.

With a low sigh, she placed the journal back in her bag and stood, slowly trekking her way down the slope to her companions. Gendry was the first to acknowledge her as Quint ran off to collect their pebbles.

"Get your sketches?" he asked as he raised a hand to wipe at his damp forehead.

Arya shook her head. "Seems I'm worse at drawing than I am at knitting."

"Well, wouldn't you know it. There is something that Arya Stark can't do!" he exclaimed, earning a light kick to the shin.

But Gendry laughed as she walked past, and fell in behind her to take hold of her messy bun. She was just about to scold him for pulling on her hair, when she felt her hair loosen and fall around her shoulders. In no time Gendry was scooping it back up to the top of her head, the stray strands gathered this time, and tied it off with the ribbon once more.

"Thank you." she said softly, and couldn't help but lean back into his chest as he brought his arms around her shoulders. "Do most men just magically know how to fix a women's hair?"

"No." he said as he rested his chin in the top of her head. "I've just watched you do it."

She closed her eyes and sunk back into his chest. One raindrop tapped her nose, then another on her ear. The wind was starting to pick up and blow gently in her ears, but other than that was silence. Just the sounds of the tall grass blowing around them and Gendry's steady breaths.

"Where's Quint?" her eyes shot open as she remembered the boy. Tearing from Gendry's arms, she sped away in the direction he was last seen, the treeline. Gendry called for her, but she persisted and plowed through the foliage. Her heart was racing again, and she couldn't shake the feeling of danger.

And there was Quint. He beamed up at Arya from where he knelt on the ground beside a small pile of smooth pebbles. "Look! Look at our collection!"

"Yeah, I see it." she sighed. “Looks nice.” Heavy footfalls came as Gendry jogged up behind her.

"Tried to tell you. He knows enough not to go far."

Arya could only nod and turn away to press further into the trees.

“Arya!” he called after her. Even as she continued to move away from him his long strides soon caught up with her quick ones and she felt his hand land heavy but gentle on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“It’s…….just me.” She sighed, closing her eyes. More quick steps came up behind them, and Quint was at her side shoving his new pebble collection into her satchel. “Come on, boys. More to see.” She pulled her shoulder out from under Gendry’s hand and moved on.

Feet soon found a thin path worn through the brush, most likely used by the hogs, and they took to following it as it seemed to lead right into the heart of the island. She could still smell the sea on the growing winds, and up above the tree tops the clouds were getting darker and thicker. Rain was coming. No question of it.

They found more hogs further down the path; three small ones tipping along on their small cloven feet. Gendry tried chasing after them with his hammer, but they proved to be quicker and harder to hit than a man in armor and only squealed as they darted away into the undergrowth. Quint tried next when one of the hogs came back to venture closer, and actually managed to grab one by it’s foot, but it squealed and thrashed around until Quint was forced to let it go. The boy cursed loudly and slammed his fist on the ground, bringing Gendry to lightly smack the back of his head and reprimand him for his words. Arya could only smile from her seat on a large rock, jotting a quick note in her journal about how the pigs ran and what their shit looked like. She hoped it would be appropriate. Maesters were always studying those kinds of things.

The path lead on and brought them past a small waterfall, no more than five feet in height, tumbling down into a small pool. The water was sweet, and they all drank heavily from it. After, Quint took off his boots and dipped his feet to swirl around in the coolness.

Gendry splashed some water in his hair and down his neck, prompting Arya to reach over and run her fingers through the damp locks. Gendry smiled and closed his eyes, allowing her fingers to gently massage his scalp.

They had just sat down for a late lunch of apples and dried beef when the rain finally dropped. It was a soaking kind of rain that seemed to instantly make you colder than you had been before. The trio darted along the path with eyes peeled for any form of shelter large enough to harbor them.

It seemed almost too convenient when they found a small cave at the end of the path. It wasn’t large enough to stand straight up in, and Gendry nearly had to go on his hands and knees. But it was dry, and empty save for some stray branches and hog droppings, so that’s where they decided to wait out the rain.

********~~~~~~~~********

“Now you try.” Arya said as she handed the stick over to Quint.

His tongue stuck out of his mouth as he dragged the end of the stick through the loose dirt of the cave floor, writing out a sloppy letter B beside her example. “How’s that?”

“Not bad for now.” She nodded. “Remember what sound it makes?”

“B-b-b, like battle.” He grinned. “And b-b-bucket. And b-b-Bull!”

Quint smiled over at Gendry, who chuckled from the opposite side of the cave. Arya looked over her shoulder and smiled as well, unable to help the blush that came when she saw the glint in his eyes from the firelight as he watched on. He had been sitting silent during their lesson, using a knife to smooth out a small stick he had found in the back of the cave.

The rain, against their best hopes, had not let up, and with the light quickly fading they had decided to stay in the cave for the night before finding their way back to camp the next morning. Gendry had dashed out in the rain and managed to find just enough dry wood for a small fire to help dry them off. It wasn’t much, but then again neither were they, just three lost explorers on a foreign island trying to wait out a rainstorm.

“Ok, next letter.” Arya took back the stick and ran her bare foot over the dirt before drawing out a large letter C.

The stick was passed to Quint and he mimicked her movement, drawing out his own C in the dirt before saying it out loud. “C. It says C-c-c-c. Like c-c-cow, and c-c-king.”

“No, king starts with a letter K.” Arya corrected, drawing out the new letter in the dirt.

Quint groaned and stamped his foot down. “Reading is hard already. Bloody hells…”

“Quint, manners.” Gendry scolded firmly. His deepened voice projected across the cave in a way that made Arya’s chest swell. She looked back over at him, but his attention was already back down to his knife and stick.

_‘He would be a good father.’_ She allowed the thought to swim around in her head for a moment before brushing it away. She wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t want to explore that possibility in her head. Not now. Maybe never, but at least not now.

“Maybe that’s enough for tonight.” Arya suggested, taking the stick and tossing it into the small fire.

“Yeah.” Quint agreed as he tucked his bony knees into his chest. “My eyes are tired.”

“Did you get enough to eat? I think there’s another apple in the bag.” She offered.

“No, I’m alright.” The boy shook his head.

“You sure?”

He nodded his head before leaning it against her side as he looked at the small fire. “Don’t worry, captain. I don’t eat much. That’s why Uncle Horrace said that he put up with me and my brother for so long.”

Arya’s heart sank a little lower in her chest. She turned her eyes over just in time to see Gendry casting a sympathetic look down at the small boy before busying himself with placing a few more sticks on the fire.

“You know, you can call me Arya.” She offered.

“Are you sure? Wren said that I needed to do a good job and be respectful….or else I’d go overboard.” He was yawning as he spoke, and Arya couldn’t help but to bring her arm around to wrap around his shoulders. He reminded her of Bran when he was small, a mess of lanky limbs and too much curiosity.

“I’m very sure.” Arya affirmed. “And if Wren has issue with it, then I’ll put her overboard. Because I’m the captain.”

“Ok, Arya.” Quint spoke softer this time and leaned a little more against her. Arya didn’t have to look down to know that his eyelids would be slowly drooping.

It took some long waiting as she gazed at the small flames, and then some careful maneuvering, but she was finally able to move out from beside Quint and lay the boy down gently to the ground without disturbing him from his well-earned sleep, letting his head rest on her satchel for a pillow.

Gendry had moved to lying down at some point, his own head propped up against a rock and eyes shut in easy rest. She added a few more sticks to the fire before scuffling across the cave. Her own head came to a rest on her arm as she laid down against him to face his chest, and his own arm came down to drape across her waist. “You’re good with him.”

“Maybe, but he’s still pretty taken with you.” She whispered back as she closed her eyes. “You could tell him you built our ship with one hand and he’d believe every word.”

She felt a low laugh in Gendry’s chest. Rain pattered steadily outside of the cave, and in wafted the occasional gust of wind that carried the scents of salt sea and green plants. It made her smile. It was all so simple. There was no great game to be played here, no great lords or ladies to appease. Just her, and Gendry, and her ship with it’s pack to lead. She placed a gentle kiss in the center of his chest and turned under his arm, leaning back against him. She felt him relax against her in return as his breathing evened out.

The sound of the rain was what finally lulled her to sleep. As she listened to it, the sound became like drums in her head, and soon her dreams were filled with marching soldiers. Their ranks formed in the thousands, and every one was clothed in plate armor stained red with blood.

Eyes blinked open quickly. The rain had eased up to a gentle mist now, but the fire was down to low embers. Gendry’s arm was off of her waist as he laid on his back behind her, Quint still where she had laid him. Everything seemed alright, but it wasn’t. Her heart was racing and her muscles seemed to want to do something, so she sat up. It helped, but the air felt wrong around her. That same feeling she had felt with the flowers was returning.

Silently, she moved herself towards the cave’s opening, taking Needle with her to lay across her lap as she sat and crossed her legs under her on the loose dirt. The wind had died down, and the island was alive once more with it’s foreign noises in her ears. Her eyes closed and she took them in, making inventory in her head. Breathing slowed to barely a movement in her lungs. It was a long while that she sat like that, a silent unmoving guard against an unknown foe. She could sense the sky beginning to lighten with the dawn on the other side of her eyelids. And when she heard Gendry stirring behind her, her muscles had begun to ache from her long vigil.

He grunted as he scooted across the cave, but she didn’t open her eyes, even when he came up behind her and sat to place his hands on her shoulders.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, voice still deep from sleep and punctuated by a yawn at the end.

Arya furrowed her brow. "Gendry, do you feel...guarded?"

"How do you mean?" His chin came to rest on the top of her head

"I mean, do you feel on edge? Like something's going to happen at any moment?"

Gendry remained silent for a few seconds, breathing softly against the top of her head. "No." he finally answered. "Don't suppose. Why?"

"Because I feel like that." Her eyes were still closed. "But it's me. Just me. Just....something wrong in me..."

She felt Gendry open his mouth quickly, as though he was going to protest. But then he shut it, and she felt him lean a little more on her. He understood. She could feel it in the way he pressed his lips to her head. "Arya..." he said softly. His arms moved to tightened around her shoulders.

“I was fine on the ship. The ship is smaller. I can control what happens on it. But an island is bigger than a ship…”

It felt like forever before he spoke again, but she didn't mind. She was content to rest in the closeness. "I'm here...with you. For you." She could tell he was trying to find the right words, but at that moment any words he said would have been right, so long as she knew that she wasn’t alone.

"And I'm here for you." she returned as a small smile pushed it's way onto her lips. She felt him sigh against her hair.

His hands moved down to her waist and she let him pull her into his lap. Arms moved around to engulf her into himself. Arya found herself sinking back against his chest, her eyes still closed, only this time it was in rest and not vigilance.

“Will things ever be right?” she finally whispered, opening her eyes. The sun was, in fact, beginning to rise now. The bright pinks and purples of the sky stretched out wide before them. The trees and brush in front of them still sat in quiet shadow, yet to awaken.

“I dunno.” He said softly, and held her a little tighter.

She had just lifted a hand to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down to where she could kiss it, but the turning of her head allowed her ear to catch the snap. Arya froze against Gendry. Another sound, brushing of leaves.

She was off of his lap with Needle in hand before he could speak a word. A finger to her lips as she threw him a firm look, before darting off into the morning shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUUNNNNNN!!!!!! Will Arya catch an intruder? Is it all in her head, or is there a real threat? Will Gendry get to use one or both of his hammers?? Tune in next time!


	13. Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit later than I had planned, but it's here nonetheless! Warning: got some violence and mild gore in this chapter. If this is a problem let me know and I can send an edited version.
> 
> Also got some smut at the end...just sayin'.....
> 
> As always, thank you so very much for reading! It means the world to me that you guys enjoy my attempts at doing this story justice!

_Swift as a deer._

Arya darted into the trees. Sounds echoed all around her, but she knew what she had heard.

_Quiet as a shadow._

Lithe form slipped down against a tree. Breathing restricted in her chest as she fought for it’s control. Muscles screamed for air. But she stilled.

_Quick as a snake._

She could see Gendry through the trees. He disappeared into the cave, reemerging seconds later with his hammer, eyes straining through the branches to make her out in the morning shadows.

_Calm as still water…_

But she was not. She tried for the briefest of moments to be No One. She shut away the ship, the name of her sword, the man who was her mate. The feelings felt all wrong in her head, though, as if they were meant for someone else. She simply could not be No One. So, she thought quickly…and became the trees. Silently she sat amongst them in the damp air, grey eyes closed and senses reached out around her. Gendry’s heavy breathing. Bird songs. Base scents of earth and leaf. But then another scent. Subtle in the air. Ale and man.

Another brush of a fern and grey eyes opened on their target. A dark figure slipped slowly through the shadows. It craned it’s neck to see the cave. Arya felt it’s confusion. It looked for her. Sunlight caught a flash of steel. In her mind’s eye it looked gold; a Lannister soldier searching for her and her friends. Lommy and Yoren’s dead forms loomed in her vision and she fought to drive it out. _‘This isn’t then.’_ She mentally punched herself. _‘This is now.’_

Needle slid silently from the sheath. Gentle steps took her forwards. This was a cat, nothing more; a tom cat to sneak up on in the Red Keep. Oh, but this was a tom. It was Tom.

A stray ray of sunlight poked through the canopy and illuminated his horrible features. The smell of ale grew stronger the closer she stepped, along with the smells of piss and blood; in his hand was a large knife. He took no notice of her. Why should a man take notice of a tree when he was looking for a woman? Soon she was behind him and her line of sight included the cave. Gendry was still there, arms flexed as he held his hammer firmly, face drooped into a scowl that brought her mind to the boy he used to be. She was back again, back in those days, and the sounds of shrieking rats crept into her mind. Tom became The Tickler, intent on torturing brave Gendry while she was made to watch. Tears stung at Arya’s eyes and she fought back an angry yell. Her foot was misplaced on the ground and slipped. Tom froze.

Heartbeat drummed in her ears. Her lungs seized. She grit her teeth and banished the thoughts, locking them deep in her mind. _'You are the She-Wolf. You do not fear ghosts.'_

Tom spun on his heels. Another flash of sunlight caught his knife. He saw her now.

Brown blood streaked down from his nose, crusted in his beard and around his dry lips. His eyes were hollow and wild.

The corner of her vision caught more movement.

Words slurred from his lips, a threat of murder. He advanced, swung the thick blade.

Arya's step was fluid as she moved out of the way, causing him to lurch forwards. Needle swung in a short arc to catch just under his right arm. Tom roared and grabbed his ribs, red leaking out from between his fingers. She pointed the thin blade to his face, but he knocked it away with the knife. Curses spilled from his mouth as a string of drool dripped out, diving forwards again. She dipped around to his back and brought her blade in a clean swipe across the back of his left knee.

Tom's leg gave out from underneath him and he dropped with a loud cry to the damp earth.

Then Gendry was there. She had hardly heard his heavy steps over the sounds of her heartbeat, but he was there all the same, charging towards Tom with warhammer held firm. He stopped short and stood panting as Tom squirmed in pain on the forest floor.

"Tom." Gendry huffed out. Arya's eyes were still on the broken man. "How'd he get here?"

"Followed us. Followed me." she said. Needle was wiped clean of blood on her pant leg before being slid safely in it's sheath.

Arya heard Gendry's hammer drop with a heavy thud. He moved quick, quicker than she had seen in a long time, and grabbed Tom's shirt in angry fistfuls. The man shrieked as Gendry effortlessly lifted him from the ground only to slam him hard against the nearest tree. Gendry started screaming words in Tom's face, words that Arya could only barely make out between his growls and roars as he repeatedly pulled Tom back only to throw him back against the tree. "Fuckin 'ell......cunt.....woman......... captain......fuck...........fuck you........"

The man may as well have been a ragdoll with the way that Gendry was tossing him around. His head bounced against the trunk with each throw. Arya found herself stepping closer, circling Gendry as he made quick work of her would-be attacker. With one last horse yell, Gendry threw him on the ground and stood over him. Tom gave a quiet simper and twitched his fingers, but that was it.

More shouting could be heard from a distance, but Arya hardly registered the new voices as she watched Tom lay bloody on the ground. The knife he had wielded lay several feet away, dropped and forgotten under Gendry's fit of rage.

Gendry’s shoulders continued to move heavily up and down when he turned his eyes back up to her. "You hurt?" His voice sounded raw.

Arya shook her head, peeling her eyes away from Tom to look at him. Red covered his fists and smattered across his shirt; such a fitting color for a bull. Because that's what he looked like. She had almost forgotten how terrifying Gendry could become, standing so tall and terrible with every muscle tense and on edge, and face pulled into a brooding scowl. Tom was thin, but by no means small, and yet Gendry had treated him like a simple sack of potatoes. A bead of sweat dripped from his hair down to his nose and nostrils as he stared back at her.

The voices got closer, and soon burst into sight. Sal, Big Edd, and Willis broke into a run when they saw the pair, but pulled to a stop when they came close enough to fin Tom lying in a heap between them.

"Well, that solves that then." Willis remarked, and Arya noticed then that he was carrying a thick club. Each of the other men had some form of weapon as well.

"Solves what?" Gendry asked for them both.

"Tom got into a fight with Aegon yesterday, after you left." Sal explained in a somber tone. "Korin tried to stop him, but Tom broke his wrist. We had him tied up to wait until you returned. Kept screaming about how he was gonna rape and then drown ya. I suppose he broke out in the night. Drank the last of our ale too."

Arya closed her eyes and took in a breath before opening them. "Edd, tie him up and take him back to shore. Drag him if you must." She stopped to cough. Her throat felt sore, but she couldn't understand why. "Quint is still up in the cave."

"I'll go get him." Gendry spoke up, bringing Arya's eyes back to him. His rage had passed. He was no longer a raging bull, he was Gendry. Her Gendry. He looked back at her once more before turning to return to the small cave, grabbing his hammer as he went.

Arya knelt to pick up Tom’s knife. She didn't wait for Gendry to return before she had the men begin the walk back to the shore. Tom tried to resist, even as much as Gendry had bloodied him, but one good kick from Edd’s boot on his injured ribs and he resorted to low whimpers as he walked along, hands bound tight with Sal’s belt-rope. Arya took up the front, never once turning back to look at her companions or her prisoner until they finally reached the sandy beach.

As expected, the men were found in disarray. Blood still stained the sand from the previous day’s fight. Arguments were being had over who should be doing what and who was responsible for the chaos. Gathered provisions sat in a heap by a dwindling fire with no new firewood in sight. But Wren, on one boring day at sea, had taught Arya how to whistle through her teeth; so she did. Heads snapped in her direction and eyes grew wide as the small party lead out Tom.

“You men were left with instructions.” She frowned. “I leave for one day and everything goes to hell. If this happens again I’ll have to start lashing.”

Truth be told, Arya really didn’t like the idea of ‘lashing’, but the threat worked because apologies were quickly made.

“We have a code on my ship, you are all aware. You follow orders, act with respect, and I’ll give you the same. I do not expect perfection, but I do expect loyalty. I’m going to show you what happens to someone who doesn’t keep that.”

Stepping over, she grabbed Tom by his bound hands and jerked, causing the man to tumble down onto his knees. A quick glance confirmed that Gendry had yet to emerge from the trees with Quint. Good. Perhaps he suspected as much. Smooth steps took her around to his back and hand drew Tom’s blade from her belt.

The motion was fluid across his neck. Tom’s mouth opened in a silent gasp before he dropped to the sand. The small crowd looked on and watched the pool of blood grow larger beneath him until everything stopped.

“This is what happens when you try to kill the She-Wolf.”

Wide gazes turned to her as if she truly was a wolf standing before them.

“Now back to your duties.” She dropped the knife to the ground beside the body, turning to Big Edd. “Dig him a grave. He’s from our land; we’ll at least give him that much.”

Hands were immediately made busy with assigned tasks. Gendry did finally emerge from the trees, carrying Quint on his back; the young boy with his face buried against the man’s broad shoulders. But no one noticed Arya’s departure until she was gone.

********~~~~~~~~********

Sand kicked up in high sprays behind her as she barreled down the beach. Her boots began to slow her down, so she kicked them off and left them on the beach. Muscles were burning, muscles that had grown used to walking on a ship instead of running on land. Tears rolled down her cheeks too, but those were the furthest thing from her mind.

_‘Not safe. Never safe. Even here. Always fighting. Always killing.’_ Each word brought a new pang to her chest and more tears spilled out.

Even in Winterfell there had been danger; her home which was meant to be safe and secure around her. Death had come on the Long Night and she had nearly passed into it’s hands. Death would never stop, never rest, until it had her for it’s own. She could not be No One, so it would take her head as it’s price.

She was approaching the cliffs they had seen the day before. She would climb them, she thought. She could live at their tops and be forever unreachable. It felt like a child’s thoughts, she knew; silly fantasies from a young girl running away from home. But she had been running away for so long now. What difference would this make? So lost was she in her thoughts that the sound of her own name being called seemed like a ghost from her mind.

But then it was louder. And louder again. And dull drumming was coming behind her. Arya barely had time to turn and see Gendry’s madcap gallop towards her before he collided, knocking them both to the ground. Arya was driven into the loose sand under Gendry’s weight, which knocked the breath out of her lungs and left her gasping for air. Gendry faired no better as he hissed and grabbed at his right knee. Arya got her strength back first, wrestling herself out from underneath his shoulder and clamoring away.

“Arya! No!” he barked and fought to regain his own footing.

Running was harder now as her lungs struggled to readjust from the trauma. She forced her legs to move and jogged further down the beach. She could make the cliffs if she just kept moving. Gendry was still calling for her and she risked a glance back at him to find him limping hopelessly towards her.

“Gendry, go away!” she called behind her, now feeling more mad than scared. The stubborn man…

“You can’t just run!”

Her jog slowed. “Yes I can. I’ve had enough!”

“Enough of what? Being captain?”

“No.” she turned around, stopping her jog. “Enough of being chased.”

Gendry stopped in his tracks at the words and leaned heavily on his uninjured leg. “Arya, I have to chase you”

She continued to look hard at him, waiting for his reason.

“Because,” he finally gave it. “I promised you. I’m going with you, staying by your side.” He resumed his slow steps towards her.

“You can’t!” she yelled out and began to walk backwards.

“Why not?!” he half screamed in frustration. She could see the pain on his face from his knee, and yet he continued his attempt to close the space between them.

“I’m as good as dead, Gendry. Someone is always trying to kill me. They always have been, ever since we were young! One day they’ll succeed, but not if there’s no one around to do it. Let Wren be captain, she deserves it, she’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

Gendry shook his head. “She isn’t my Arya. I’m with you. Wherever you go, I do too.”

Arya stopped her steps and watched him slowly advance. Tears were beginning to come to her eyes once more. She let them come. She had nothing to hide from him anymore.

“You want to stay here? Fine, we’ll stay here together. Just me, you, and the miserable little pigs.” He was a few yards from her now. “Let them sail away and leave us here to stay in safety. I’ve told you before, nothing is worth it if you’re not there with me.”

Gendry was close enough to touch now. Arya’s eyes closed as he reached a hand up to cup her cheek, his other hand resting on her hip. Fingers closed firmly around her waist and Arya suspected that as his attempt to keep her from running again.

“I will stay. But, please, no more running.” He pleaded and lowered his forehead to hers. “You’re too strong to run away.”

Two more tears rolled down her cheeks as she broke against him. His strong arms moved to wrap tightly around her, pulling her to cry against his chest. She knew somewhere in her mind that his leg must still be hurting, but he continued to hold her to himself, one hand raising to stroke her hair while whispered soft words into her hair. Arya cried hard. Her shoulders heaved with the sobs. And by the time it was done, a large wet spot had been made in the middle of Gendry’s shirt. It wasn’t until her breathing had begun to even out that she felt Gendry slowly lower the two of them to sit down on the sand.

Silence took over between the two. Gendry continued to hold her tight against himself, and finally moved her into his lap to keep her closer. Arya took in a deep breath and felt the fatigue begin to wash over her, the kind that comes after a good hard cry. So she leaned against Gendry and let her eyes slip closed.

********~~~~~~~~********

Gentle rocking finally awoke Arya from the slumber that she didn’t know she had even fallen into. Her eyes opened to find her head in Gendry’s lap, the rest of her body lying on hard wood. She sat up immediately and found herself in the rowboat, dark open water surrounding them, with Sal rowing gently towards The Dreamfyre.

“What are we doing?”

“Getting you back to your ship.” Gendry said softly.

The rowboat was pulled alongside the ship and Arya was first up the rope ladder. Gendry followed, though not as closely as he tried to stay, and Arya felt horrible when she saw his winces and struggles on his bad leg. He injured it to come after her, it was her fault, but here he was still tending to her. Finally, he was on the deck and placing a hand on her back to usher her to the steps that lead below. They didn’t see another soul, something Arya found herself very grateful for. When they entered the dark cabin he pushed the door closed behind them, the heavy lock clicking into place, she felt a heavy weight leave her shoulders.

Gendry must have sensed it, because he stepped up behind her and began to pull at the string holding her hair in place. “You’re back on your ship, Arya.” He said softly.

Her hair dropped down to her shoulders an she let out a long breath. This was her safe place. It needed to be. At least for tonight. A single lantern was lit on the desk, giving off a warm glow around them that made her feel warm too. Gendry’s hands trailed down her shoulders and back, heavy but gentle against her. They found the bottom of her shirt and pulled it upwards as she raised her arms to allow the action. Cool air touched her bare skin and she somehow felt a little freer, especially when the same hot hands that removed her shirt came to rest on her sides. Warm lips also made contact on her shoulder and drew a soft sigh from hers. Arya let her eyes slip closed and raised a hand to thread through his hair.

“Gendry,”

“Hmm?” His hum on her shoulder tickled a little and brought her a soft chuckle.

“What if I’m always this way?”

His kisses stopped on her shoulder and arms came to wrap around her, just as tightly as they did on the beach.

“What if I never feel safe? What if I try to run again?”

“Arya,” he breathed and turned his head to place meaningful kisses along her neck, “I will always stay with you. And if you need to run, we’ll run together.”

Gendry may have said something else after that, but it was too muffled against Arya’s skin for her to make it out, and she was so caught up in the feelings that he was drawing out of her that she really didn’t care. Turning in his arms, she caught his lips in a heated kiss. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, while his dropped from around her to fumble with her belt. After several attempts, causing the two of them to break into soft laughter amidst their kisses, Arya felt her pants loosen and drop to the cabin floor. Her smallclothes soon joined them, as well as her chest binding, until Gendry had her completely bare against him. Feeling the need to have thing equal, Arya grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and jerked it over his head. She tried to remove his pants, but Gendry took her hands in his and used them to pull her into another slower kiss.

“No, I want to take care of you. Let me.” He whispered, lips pulling hers into another kiss before she had time to protest.

Protests of any form were thrown out the window when he pulled her over to the bed and guided her down on it. Arya reveled in the feel of the heat from his skin as he laid down next to her. Lips came together once more in a soft kiss and she felt one of his hands begin it's descent down her body. It almost made her shiver to think of what those same hands had done that very morning. But this was her Gendry, her bull, and she trusted him completely.

His kisses moved from her mouth and down her neck, and she could feel the heat rising over her with every movement. Hands drifted lower to graze lightly between her legs where she needed him most. But he seemed to have other plans, so she lay still as he proceeded. Soon his lips found a hard nipple and instantly took it inside his mouth. Arya couldn't help the sigh that came, nor the moan that followed when he flicked it with his tongue. Without thinking, she bucked her hips up against the fingers that were dancing around, barely grazing to touch the increasingly wet slit. She felt him smile against her breast and drag one teasing finger ever so slowly across her folds. Arya was about to protest, or at the very least hit him, but his kisses dropped lower onto her stomach. He had done this more times than she could count now, kissing along the scars that ran there, as though he were writing his own love over the pain. But tonight, he seemed to have much more in mind.

Kisses grew more intentful as he dropped lower along her body. She felt his teeth graze her hip bone and gasped. Her hand threaded through his hair yet again as he moved his affections towards her middle, and then lower.

Arya felt adrift in her own ocean and could only watch and eagerly comply when Gendry moved himself between her legs and asked her to part them. She felt his breaths, as heavy as hers, on her core. It made her breath hitch. She watched as he stared at her with lust filled eyes, as though he was taking her all in from his new position. It _was_ new. His kisses had dipped as low as her hips before, but never further, not before one of them grew impatient and moved for him to enter her. He seemed determined tonight, though, and drank his fill of the sight of her before turning his head to place a kiss on the inside of one of her thighs. Her eyes flew closed at the contact, and he must have liked that because she felt his grin as he placed more along the same thigh before moving over to the other. Her nerves were just beginning to settle down when his lips moved to kiss her center.

If it weren’t for the exhaustion that still sat heavy in her bones, she would have flown off the bed. The hand that had been on his head grabbed hard and held him in place when his tongue then slip out to drag hot and heavy from the bottom of her slit to the top. And then he pressed it to the throbbing nub and she gasped his name loud enough that they must have heard it on shore. It did nothing to dissuade his actions, however, and he continued to lap eagerly at her wetness. More moans and gasps followed as she fought to keep her eyes open to watch the mess of black hair moving between her legs, clear blue eyes occasionally glancing up to meet hers.

“Gendry,” she breathed again before her eyes rolled back in her head. One of his hands had moved over to his mouth and slid two fingers deep inside of her. Her breath was turning ragged now and her hips rose up against him and his pumping fingers, begging for more contact. He gave it by adding a third finger and taking the nub in between his lips to suckle.

The build that had been climbing and climbing finally burst. Lightening filled her body as she suddenly reached her peak. Back was arched and both of her hands were now in his hair to prevent him from stopping, as if he would have. His fingers slowed inside of her, continuing long enough to make sure that every ounce of pleasure had been given, before slowly drawing out. His lips released as well, tongue tracing out one last long drag before he kissed her there gently.

Arya’s eyes remained closed, breathing still coming in pants. She couldn't move, and she didn't want to. Her body was filled with complete and utter contentment. She felt him move up in the bed to lay beside her and wrap his arms around her. Arya pulled her lips into a smile, finding that even her face was exhausted. She could have sworn she heard Gendry humming a soft tune deep in his chest, but the warmth in his skin enveloped her and she found herself slipping away once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'll just leave you guys with that while I go shower.....


	14. Setting Sail

"I don't like this." Wren called down as she dropped over the railing and onto the rope ladder. It wasn't the first time she said it that day, nor would it be the last.

Arya gave no reply but watched patiently from below as her first mate climbed lower and lower down the side of the ship. She waited until Wren was finally seated in the rowboat before grabbing the oars and starting them towards the island. Her head turned up to the larger vessel and caught Gendry's gaze as he watched from the deck. He waved as he leaned heavily against a makeshift crutch, his knee still injured from that day her mind had tried to break. Arya felt terrible knowing she was responsible. But when she had told him the same that morning in bed, he only stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, saying "I would chase you again if needed."

Blue eyes looked down from the ship and, though he was smiling, those eyes still begged to her what he had said on the beach, to not run again. She couldn't promise that forever. Wouldn't promise it forever. But she had promised it for today, her mind drifting back to the gentle kisses and caresses they had shared when she told him that she would return to him.

"I don't like this."

There it was again, and Arya could only grin and pull the oars back through the water. "You know, you'll never forgive yourself if we leave without seeing the island in person."

"Oh, I can forgive myself plenty. But you won't be forgiving when we get caught in another storm, or get sucked down by a leviathan, or get shipwrecked on an island of savages..." Wren trailed off before kissing the bird tattoo on her wrist. "You'll learn, Stark. Always make someone stay on the ship. Everyone in your crew goes and touches land, then the sea will think you like the land better, and it'll get mad."

Arya couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Wren, you have the most superstitions of anyone I've ever met."

"But they've kept me alive so far." Wren replied with a wink as she leaned back against the boat. "Not like you need any of that. Seems you can hold your own just fine."

"I can."

Wren fell silent, watching the shore draw closer. She ran a hand through her hair and Arya noticed that she had let it out of the usual braid, leaving it to drape freely over her shoulders, nearly as long as Sansa's had been. Slowly they all seemed to be growing more at ease in their new world. "Take me to the grave, will you?" she asked in a lower tone.

Arya nodded, still looking hard at Wren as she continued to work the oars. No more was said until they had landed the boat. To Arya's surprise, Wren jumped out quickly and proceeded to drag the boat up out of the water until it was no longer at risk of floating away. Several of the crew were still on the shore readying the things to be brought back to the ship, a couple of them calling greetings out to the first mate. Wren only replied with nods. That is until she saw Korin and quickly waved him over. The arm of his injured hand was secured tightly to his chest in a cloth sling. Aegon had splinted it with some twigs and linen, but the hand was still swollen and useless. Wren wasted no time with greetings and immediately began to inspect it as soon as her bother was close enough to touch. Korin winced slightly at the prodding, but stood still and allowed Wren to have her look. When she seemed to have satisfied herself with the quality of the acolyte's work, she made some hand motions to Korin, who smiled and hugged his sister before returning to his work.

Standing still on the beach, Wren's eyes then turned to take in the new surroundings, and Arya noticed the woman's hands clenching and unclenching. Arya stepped towards her and rested a hand on her shoulder. Wren didn't move. Silently she wondered if Wren felt the same way that she had when she first arrived on the new shore. But if she did, Wren never said. Instead she took in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders before saying, "Alright. Where is it?"

The grave had been dug a short ways past the tree line, at the base of a small tree. The soil was sandy, so it had taken Big Edd the better part of the previous day to finish, but she had been told how, in the end, Tom's body was lowered in and covered while Aegon said a begrudging eulogy. One of the men had even gone as far as to fashion a crude seven pointed star out of some sticks and twine to mark the spot.

Wren stood at the foot of the grave, staring at it with hard blinks for several minuets. Arya saw no tears in her eyes, but Wren's breathing became increasingly heavy until she finally spit in the sand and kicked some up over the grave. "My apologies, captain. Truly." Wren said softly. "Was my fault. I took him on the crew."

"Wren, you couldn't have known."

"But I did say he would give trouble, remember?" her hand came up to rub hard underneath her nose. "Should have gone with my gut."

Arya found herself dancing her finger's over Needle's hilt in thought.

"That man I told you about before the storm, the one I would have married?"

Arya nodded.

"His name was Tom." Wren huffed out. "Not this Tom, of course. Mine was taller, and wouldn't have harmed a thing." Arya heard her voice cracking as she sat down at the base of another tree. "But I suppose I heard the name and thought that anyone with it must be as good as he was." She swallowed hard. "Won't happen again."

A gull squawked overhead as the two women stared at the grave. Wren still had yet to shed a tear, but looked to Arya as though she very much wanted to.

"There was no way you could have known.You didn't mean for it to turn out like this." Arya insisted. She knew the words carried very little weight, but they needed to be said all the same.

Wren allowed her head to nod slowly, eyes resting on the grave in front of them. "Stupid island. Stupid voyage. Should have started under a better moon." She kissed her tattoo.

Arya found herself with nothing else to say, so she stood and looked down at the grave as well. She found herself playing out that morning in her mind. Shadows in the trees, the red on Gendry's hands, the feel of Tom's matted hair in her fingers as she exposed his neck for the knife.

"Wren," Arya sighed, sitting down across from the other woman. "Do you remember what happened when we first set sail? The good omens?"

"With the blood?"

"Yes, and the hat too. You told me they meant a long voyage, but a successful one. Do you still believe that?"

"Suppose." Wren shrugged. "They've never been wrong before."

"Then let's not dwell on the bad. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Think about the success we will have."

It took several minuets of silence as Wren stared at her hands, which had resumed their clenching and unclenching. Arya began to wonder if she should leave her to her thoughts and stood up, dusting off her pants before Wren finally spoke.

"I'm glad I came with you."

Arya smiled down and offered her a hand up. "I'm glad too."

********~~~~~~~~********

Voyage of The Dreamfyre into the Sunset Sea

Captain's Log: Day 35

One sailor,Tom of Maidenpool, met his end following his assault on myself and other members of the crew on the Isle of Aegon, where he was executed and buried for his actions.

Provisions have been gathered and damage from the storm prepared. Fruit of varying colors and flavors have been gathered that the crew is very excited to have. Several pigs have also been hunted from the islands and salted for the next leg of our journey. Skies have remained clear for the past two days and we are hopeful for peaceful waters ahead.

********~~~~~~~~********

The new mast stood tall and proud with Gendry's fittings holding nicely. It took nearly an extra day, but the riggers had finally hung the sails to it's branches, Arya's stitching across it's face still holding as strong as ever.

It was an odd feeling that filled her mind as she stood on the rear-castle, watching as the crew finished bringing in the last of the provisions on the rowboats. These island, sitting in their silence, had never known human pain and bloodshed until she brought it to their shores. Arya found herself saying a silent prayer (to whom, she knew not) that Tom's soul would somehow find peace here.

Barrels and crates were hauled up onto the deck, and one by one the men climbed up the rope ladder before bringing up the boats behind them. Arya observed as some men looked back with fond longing to the islands, while still others turned their backs to it and busies themselves with the new cargo. No one knew when the next time they saw land would be. It could be days, or weeks, or even months. They may find nothing and simply continue sailing until their supplies ran out and they wasted away aboard their floating coffin. But they all still followed her boldly into the unknown. Not one had expressed a true desire to turn back. If they had all been back in Westeros, she would have had them all knighted and given places of honor. They weren't in Westeros, though, and Arya had a feeling that titles meant very little to this lot who were used to their vessel's own set of rules, so she settled for marking them in her heart as her family.

Wren gave her whistle and the sails were set to catch the midday winds. Oren and Big Edd began to turn the wheel that raised the anchor from the rolling depths. Soon, just as at the start of their journey, Arya found the shoreline inching further and further behind them. She kept it in her sight for as long as she could, doing her best to imprint in her mind's eye the bright greens and whites of the shoreline and the dip and swoop of the gulls in the skies above it. Finally, when it was only a dot on the wide horizon, she turned away. Wind whipped at the loose strands of hair that hung down the sides of her face and she felt the fine spray of the sea on her skin once more. She had missed this, she realized. Arya Stark, of the snows of the North, found herself strangely comfortable on the waves. Her sea legs were beginning to come back to her as her body became one with the ebb and rock of the vessel beneath her.

Now it was time for a new destination, and it was then that she called for Wren and Korin to meet her in the captain's quarters. Nester also managed to make his way into the cabin. She had circled down to the main deck to invite Gendry as well, but he had made himself comfortable up against some crates while he mended some ropes, so she left him with a quick kiss and a promise to return soon.

Maps were quickly retrieved from her chests, as well as Korin's navigation instruments. It was his right hand that was injured, which of course would be the hand that he wrote with, so some choppy notes were made on a scrap of paper with his left hand as he scanned over the maps and fumbled with the readings.

"Setting a course for north." Arya read off when Korin handed her the paper. She jotted another note down asking about more storms before handing it back to him.

Korin nodded and looked to Wren as he attempted to make some motions with his uninjured hand. Wren cocked an eyebrow at him and made some motions of her own. Thus began a brief back and forth between the siblings that left Korin huffing in frustration before snatching the paper and making more sloppy scribbles before shoving it at Wren.

"Oh!" she exclaimed when she made out the writing. "We gotta get that hand better. Can't understand a word from him! He says we can't be sure what the storms will do this far west. Could be more of the same, could be new patterns. But we'll swing north until we clear the islands, then we can veer west again."

"Make it due west. Straight into the sunset. But keep our course as straight as possible. Those islands are the closest land we know of if we have any need of turning back." Arya affirmed. "Nester, tell Pots to keep normal rations, no extra, for anyone. We need to be prepared to make supplies last as long as we can."

"Aye." Nester nodded from where he was leaned against the window.

"How much drink do we have left?" was her next question. "I understand Tom made quick work of the last of the ale?"

"Not all." Wren answered quickly. "Just all that was taken ashore. We have eight casks left still, with twenty of beer. Managed to hide away two of the wine, plus the captain's cask." Another one of Wren's traditions. If the captain had to go down with the ship, they pulled out their special cask to drink as it sank.

Arya laced her fingers in her lap as she listened and thought. "Have Potts mix in three casks of beer with three of water. The men will get one tankard each of the mix with supper, but no more. And that includes Aegon. He could stand to sober up. We can use the alcohol for more than drinking. It needs to last too."

Nester chuckled, drawing her attention back to him. "Men won't be too happy about that."

"Tell them that any complaints can be brought to me directly. I mean what I say."

The man only smirked and nodded.

********~~~~~~~~********

He was right, the men didn't like it, but Arya only watched in amusement that evening at supper. From her seat across the deck she could see the men sampling each other's tankards to see if anyone had a stronger mix than the rest. Aegon simply sat and sulked over his own drink, looking hard into it as though he could wish it to be strong ale. But Pots had softened the blow with a hearty pork stew, so complaints were soon forgotten on full stomachs. Laughter rippled through them when Willis waited until Little Edd's face was close enough to his tankard before knocking it's bottom and splashing the drink

She turned her attention back to Gendry at her side, who was pushing past winces to stretch his injured knee out in front of him.

"Is it any better?"

He shrugged and reached down to knead his fingers over it. "A bit. Isn't as stiff to move."

"I'm sorry."

"Look, if you don't keep saying that..."

"You'll do what?" she cut in, keeping her face serious as he smirked over at her and fought to keep it straight when he continued to lock his eyes with hers, inching closer until his nose was pressed against hers. Lips brushed together and one of the men gave out a loud whistle, causing a smile to finally break across her face.

A loud strangled yell was what finally drove them apart, though, and Arya's head whipped away from his in the direction.

The yell, it appeared, came from Korin, who was fighting to remain still as Wren removed the bandaging from around it. Even in the fading light, and from across the deck no less, Arya could see the deep purple that covered his wrist and hand. Korin turned his head and bit down hard on his other fist as Wren turned the injured hand over gently to inspect it.

"Seven hells." Arya heard Wren mutter before standing and storming across the deck. Arya sensed what she intended, and pushed Gendry away to spring to her feet.

Arya was always quick, but this time it wasn't quite enough. By the time she crossed the deck, Wren had jerked Aegon up by the back of his robe. He gasped in surprise and his soup and drink went spilling onto the deck as she threw him in Korin's direction.

"Fix his hand, you drunk cunt!" Wren yelled as Arya grabbed her shoulder to pull her back, Aegon looking up with wide eyes.

"Wren, that's uncalled for." she scolded as Wren jerked out of her grasp.

"What's uncalled for is this no good scab thinking he can just slap a bandage on a fracture and call it good! You haven't even checked it once since it happened, and now look at it!" Wren was screaming now. "He'll be lucky if he doesn't lose it!"

"B...b...but a fracture a....a..always looks worse before it gets better." Aegon stammered out as his hands raised defensively. "I c...can assure you, I've trained at..."

"I don't give a shit about your training! Only thing that matters to me is what you're going to do about it before I tie a rope around your neck and drag you behind the ship for the sharks!"

"It does look bad. Even I can see that." Arya agreed, bringing her hands behind her back when she was sure that Wren's rage had passed. "And, if I'm not mistaken, you're the one he was defending when it happened. Therefore, tomorrow, you will do whatever needs to be done to fix it."

Aegon pressed his lips together and swallowed hard, turning his head to look at Korin, who was watching the whole exchange through grimaces. "It....it may require surgery."

Arya's tone stayed firm. "Then we'll perform surgery."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it was a filler chapter. But stuff has to happen before STUFF can happen, right?
> 
> As always, thank you so incredibly much for reading!


	15. Further To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very sincere apology for the wait! Life and a seemingly endless stream of WIPs vying for my attention left this fic on the back burner for a bit. But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because a step back has helped me get a better feel for how I want the second half of this fic to play out.(and yes, I consider this the second half in the story)
> 
> A little bit more minor gore in this chapter, as well as a somehwat crude(by today's standards) medical procedure. If you don't want to read it, you can pretty much skip the middle part and be fine.
> 
> As always, thank you from the very bottom of my heart for reading and commenting! It really does mean so much to me to hear what you think!

The snowfall of late winter drifted calmly around her as she walked. The air was cold; not as cold as Nymeria had felt the North when it would sting at her nostrils and dry her eyes, but cold enough for the new wolf to feel it in the pads of her paws. Through pine and elder she walked, and she walked alone. Her pack rested far behind, warm in their den. This journey was hers alone to make.

Somewhere above the clouds watched the moon, but it would give her no light on this path. Instead she walked by smell and feel. The cave was close. She could smell the smoke from the fire faintly upon the breeze. Any other fire would have meant men, and men were to be avoided. But this man was different. She did not know him, but she knew that he had called to her. And so she came, winding up the steep path that crossed over the mountain’s face.

The cold was beginning to set into her left hip, bringing a deep ache to the old wound and slowing her pace. But she could not stop now, not when the smell of smoke and herbs was growing stronger. Her steps had brought her far now, far from any settlement of man she knew of, far even from her pack’s territory.

Falling snow was now a blanket of white before her eyes, broken only by the orange glow glimpsed through the fur branches. Her pace slowed, gentle padding of paws bringing her to peer into the cave.

She had never seen the large man before, but she knew him somehow. Broad shoulders hunched where he sat by the fire. Long black hair hung loose down his back over a cloak of pelts, and the skin wasn’t which covered by clothing showed odd markings of black and red. She watched from the entrance as he bent over a leather scroll, a thick finger running over the words it contained. She watched him so intently that she nearly ran when he spoke.

“Come, child. Come in out of the cold.” his voice was soft and deep and still somehow familiar. He had yet to look up from his readings, and made no movement towards her, so she took a couple of steps inside of the cave.

Warm air brushed at her face and she found her muscles relaxing, the ache in her hip slowly lessening. Ease filled her body, so she sat and licked at her nose. Her eyes drifted to the fire where a large rabbit sat crisped on a spit.

“I hope you don't mind if I cooked it.” The large man had yet to look up to her. “I regret, I would not enjoy it raw as you would.”

She looked hard at him, her mind doing it’s best to wrap around the enigma he presented. A man in such a remote cave, unsurprised when a wolf came into what was clearly his home. It was then that he looked up at her. The wolf tilted her head, and the girl inside of her wanted to gasp.

Ice blue eyes, glowing against the firelight, smiled up at her.

The girl had seen those same eyes before and wanted so badly to run. But these _were_ smiling, kind and gentle. Only friendship extended from them towards her.

“You have come far, child. So very far, and yet still further to go.”

Arya’s own eyes opened. She was still in her bed, in her cabin, where she had fallen asleep. Instinctively, she swept an arm across the bed behind her, finding it empty and cold. Gendry had watch duty, she remembered, vaguely recalling awakening to his light kiss on her temple before he left the cabin.

Turning to her back, she allowed her mind to drift back to the wolf-dream. It was the first she had experienced since leaving the island, and she still dreamed it in a new wolf in a new land. A part of her began to wonder if this was a land that they were nearing. But why should she enter a new wolf? And there was the man…the man with the shining blue eyes…the same as the Night King.

Her eyes drifted back closed and she began to think of Nymeria. She imagined that it was still deep into the night there. Arya missed her, missed being inside of her powerful body. This new wolf was smaller, with an old wound besides. Thoughts wandered to those distant hills and fields of the Riverlands. Slowly, the scent of humid air and mud seeped into her mind. Sounds came next, bugs and rolling water. The feel of the soft blankets around her became fur over her skin, familiar skin that she had entered into many times. Starlight began to dance before her eyes. She wanted to howl, and nearly lifted her large head to do so, but a voice entered her head.

_“No, sister. She is yours no longer.”_

The voice pushed Arya back into her own body, the smell of salt replacing that of the river, the rocking of the ship replacing the brush of the night wind.

_“The time for looking to the past has ended. Look ahead to your new shores, to your new skin.”_

Her eyes were nearly tearing at the sound of Bran’s voice. ‘Bran, what waits on the new shores?’ came her desperate thought.

His reply came soft, lulling her back into a deep sleep. _“The old gods hold no power there. It is their kin who stand watch. I will soon bow to their rule. But they await you, dear sister.”_

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Arya shifted to her weight to her other foot and she watched Aegon with growing impatience. The man had gone through his entire inventory at least a dozen times, each time filling the box Arya held with only one or two more items. Some cloth here, a vial of green liquid there.

He was sweating, she noted. It was stuffy in his cabin, to be sure. But while she had only a fine glisten on her brow, his was pouring down his face. And his hands; Arya grimaced as they shook so hard that he knocked over the bottle that he was trying to grasp.

He took in a deep breath before picking it up from the floor, placing it in her box before quickly turning around once more. “We’ll need some wine. Yes, wine.” he said, making her ears instantly perk up.

“Aegon,” she warned. “you will have no wine. I thought I made that clear.”

She watched his shoulders slump. “It’s not for me. No, not for me. For the bandaging. It’s to boil.”

Arya was watching him intently now. “How much have you had to drink since we cut rations?”

“No more than the others, I swear it.” he sighed, as though the words were reminding him of something he’d rather not be reminded of. “I swear it, captain. I’ll be thirty on my next name day, whenever that is. It was time I put away the drink anyways.”

He still hadn’t turned around, but Arya nodded and said no more, waiting as he gathered two more metal instruments before mumbling something along the lines of “That should do it.” And snuffing out his lantern.

Korin was already seated on the chair when they returned to the deck. He blinked heavily in the bright midday sun, injured hand laid on a stack of crates while the other grasped a tankard. If he had taken notice of the leather strap that Gendry had nailed to the top crate, he was too drunk to care. The man reeked of ale and smirked up at Arya when she carried over the box of supplies. Doing his best to balance his tankard on his lap, he attempted to make some signs to Arya, only to spill the ale across his lap.

He snickered and rolled his head back to look up at Wren, who stepped over to pick up his tankard and refill it from a pitcher. She shoved it in his hand and made a sign that could only have meant ‘drink up’, because Korin only grinned wider and held his drink aloft before guzzling it down.

“I want him feeling as little as possible.” Wren huffed in Aegon’s direction.

It wasn’t lost on Arya how many glances the acolyte was giving to his patient and his beverage. But it surprised her to see him shake his head roughly before turning back to preparing his instruments.

Wine was boiled in a small pot. Aegon ran his metal instruments through the fire to cleanse them, and Gendry and Big Edd stepped in closer to Korin. Arya glanced around to notice that the rest of the crew had formed a wide circle around them, some even hanging from the rigging for a better view. With nothing else to do on a calm day at sea, why _not_ watch the show?

Aegon, sleeves rolled up and hair tied back, picked up one of his tools with a shaking hand and gave a nod to Gendry and Big Edd. The two men stepped in, Gendry’s strong hands coming to Korin’s shoulders while Edd took ahold of the arm on the crates, injured hand still swollen and dark, fingers bent inward at unnatural angles. Korin groaned at the contact but remained still while Edd secured his arm with the leather strap. It was then that Aegon moved in and began maneuvering the hand, fingers gently palpating the swollen areas. A loud hiss came from Korin, bringing Wren to kneel beside him and hold his good hand.

With movements that almost looked gentle Aegon started stretching the fingers, though the sounds that Korin began making told Arya otherwise. He jerked his hand violently, nearly bringing it out of the strap. Gendry pressed on his shoulders harder and Edd nearly had to lay on top of his upper arm. Aegon was unphased. The tremors that had been present in his hands were now gone. His keen eyes never strayed from the hand as he continued to set the bones right. It was then that Arya could see it in him, the youth that he still had, hidden under the false age brought on by a hard life. Bright eyes still sat in sunken sockets and deep lines crossed over a strong brow. He would have been handsome. Still could be handsome.

Slowly, through ever increasing wails and screams, Korin’s hand began to return to it’s correct position. Aegon let it lay in the crate to step back and Korin’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Wren reached up to brush the damp hair from his face, still clasping his other hand tightly.

But Aegon wasn’t finished. “Arya, dip the cloth in the wine and be ready to hand it to me. We need to relieve the pressure.”

She moved into position beside him and did as told, submerging several strips of the fabric under the red. Aegon took a small knife from amongst his instruments and quickly drew it through the flame beneath the pot. He ordered Korin to be held again, and the two men had barely enough time to grab onto the man before Aegon passed the blade over Korin’s palm. The resulting actions happened so fast that Arya only looked up in time to see Gendry dropping to the deck, red blood seeping from behind the hand covering his nose while the men around him scrambled to help him to his feet. Edd fought to regain control of Korin’s shoulders while Aegon smoothly stepped over and leaned on Korin’s arm, never letting up from his task. It was as though he was as deaf as Korin, attention solely fixed to the hand and the blade.

“The cloth now, Arya.” came his calm but stern voice and she dipped a pair of tongs into the wine. The cloth was held in the air only long enough to cool before she handed it to Aegon.

Korin was whimpering now, tears streaming down his cheeks that Wren was desperately trying to sooth. Then, it was all over as soon as it started. Aegon dabbed at the incision with the soaked cloths that Arya provided before drawing dry strips from his box to wrap it.

It wasn’t until he was finished that he permitted Korin to be released. The man slumped over and Wren barely caught him. None of the men watching said a word.

“He may still loose the hand.” he warned with a wary look towards Wren. “But at least we can say we tried.”

Wren sniffled, shifting her weight under Korin, eyes boring into Aegon’s. “If he loses his hand, I’m taking yours as well.”

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

The sea sat calm, as calm as it had all day. Even after the full moon rose high the waters remained calm around them. With no strong winds, and no high waves to drift them, there left no need for the night watch to steer, so Arya finally decided to sit back against the railing and enjoy the silence around her.

Thoughts landed on Korin below, having drifted to sleep once placed on his cot and yet to awaken from his drunken stupor. Aegon was confident that, should the hand survive, it would still be of at least some use to him. Wren had spent the rest of the day in a horrible mood and sneered at anyone who looked at her for too long, save Arya. It was Arya that she pulled aside to hug tightly and thank for seeing that her brother received the help needed. “I don’t know if our parent’s live. We only have ourselves.” she confessed with a sigh.

Arya felt movement in the boards below her, pulling her mind out of her thoughts. Seconds later, a mess of black hair began bobbing up the steps, soon to reveal the sleep creased face it sat on top of.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” she asked in an almost scolding tone as Gendry sat down beside her.

“Too still, I ‘spose.” he shrugged. “Got used to the rocking.”

“I thought you could sleep anywhere.”

“Well I obviously hadn’t spent much time on a boat before.”

“It is still, isn’t it.” Arya agreed. Turning to look up at him, she couldn’t help but raise a hand to brush her fingers over the bruised area around his nose and eye. Evidently Korin had caught him well enough to bloody his nose and swell his eye for most of the day.

“Not the worst I’ve had.” he insisted, though she could still feel him flinch at the tender touch. “Another to add to the collection. As long as you can still bear to look on me, that is.” The last part was punctuated with a dramatic air.

Arya couldn’t help but grin as she raised a hand to smooth his unruly hair. “I’d have you even if your nose was a bird’s beak.”

“You would?”

“Of course I would. But it isn’t. Besides, it would make kissing you very awkward. So be grateful you have a human nose.”

His eyes smiled down in a very amused way before dropping his head to brush his lips lightly to hers. “I am grateful.”

Returning the smile, Arya leaned back up for yet another gentle kiss, leaving her wholly surprised when his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into his lap.

“We can’t do anything up here.” she insisted sharply, but not until after he pressed his lips to hers more firmly, his hand threading through her hair.

“We aren’t doing anything.” he insisted, lips moving from hers to her jaw. He must have sensed the rebuttal she was about to make and continued. “I’m sore from having my lights knocked out by a drunk man and all I want to do is sit and kiss milady under the stars.”


	16. Careful Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning on investing a lot of time into Love Is A Four Legged Word and FLW-The Dogs over the next week or so, so I wanted to give this fic a good update before then. 
> 
> As always, from the very cockles of my heart, thank for for reading and commenting. I love it and I love you!

The winds had yet to return.

Five days with dead sails; Arya had counted them. The crew was beginning to get nervous, and it would have been a lie to say that she was not on edge as well.

The sun beat down heavy on the deck. Arya brought a hand to her brow to wipe at the beads of sweat that were forming before scooting back further into the shade of the makeshift awning. She had already pulled her hair up, now all that she needed was a nice breeze to blow on the back of her neck. Their only saving grace had been a mild shower the day before. The short reprieve from the sun had been welcome and nearly everyone had scrambled to stand on the deck with their faces to the sky until they were soaked.

But now they were roasting alive again, reduced to miserable grumbles and lazy ambles across the deck in search of something to do.

Ralph pulled his charcoal stub back, eyeing the board hard before passing it over to Arya, who inspected it for herself.

“Good job.” she smiled in approval at the neat row of “P”s that lined the short board. “Quint, are you finished?”

The sibling, which was lying on his stomach on Arya’s other side under the canvas awning, let out a huff and slid his own board out from in front of him. Arya looked it over, and when she saw that most all of the “P”s were either lopsided or written with half a loop, she rubbed the damp cloth over it before handing it back to Quint.

“Try again. And try to focus this time.”

Quint groaned and dropped his forehead to the deck below in a faint thump. “It’s too hard!”

“Is not!” she half laughed. “You’re not even trying!”

“What good is there in writing anyways? Just some stupid lines and dots.” Quint folded his arms to rest his chin on.

“Quint, you’re the one who wanted to learn this in the first place.” Arya sighed. With nothing else left to do, she had taken to giving the two boys regular lessons. Ralph, as it turned out, took to the new knowledge a lot quicker than his brother had. Arya could already tell that he possessed a steady hand and a quick eye for reading. Quint was on the other hand entirely. He very much enjoyed the idea of knowing how to read when she presented him the opportunity on the island, but it was a different story putting it into practice. The older brother was impatient and got frustrated easily when things didn’t flow as easily as he thought they should.

“Fine.” she sighed, realizing that no more progress would be made. “It’ll be lunch time soon enough anyways. Run along and see if Potts needs any help.”

It took no time at all for the boys to find their feet and dash out from under the canvas, leaving Arya to collect the charcoal and boards before standing up herself. After taking a moment to let the blood return to her feet, she carried the supplies down the steps to her cabin. The air down below was cooler, but almost stuffy, and she had just decided on a quick return to the deck when a firm body pushed her into her cabin. The fear that struck her took less than a second to dissipate when familiar hands rested on her hips.

“Have I told you yet how well you do with the boys?” Gendry asked, his voice low as the words breathed across her ear.

“You have.” Arya smiled smugly, pulling out of his hold to step over to the desk. She had no sooner sat the boards down on it than the hands returned to her hips, this time holding her back against himself.

She could feel that Gendry didn’t have a shirt on. All the better. Arya allowed her head to roll back against his shoulder as his hands began to raise up her sides. Suddenly she was spinning around to face him, caught up in his arms as he lifted her to sit on the desk. Breaths came quicker as their lips joined. It was as if a sudden urge has overtaken Gendry. But Arya was never one to complain. She moaned against his lips at the delicious feeling of his large hands pawing at her breasts through her shirt. Her own hands threaded through his hair, pulling just enough to make him growl into her mouth. His hair had finally grown back to the length it was when she first met him, and she loved it. Long enough now to tug on when she needed him rougher, and long enough now to hold him in place as she peaked against his lips. The thought sent a rush of pleasure to that place, suddenly wanting him there.

Impatiently, she grabbed one of his wrists and moved his hand lower until it was against her crotch. Gendry whispered a half-formed word that was lost when she bit down on his lip as he pulled aside the tops of her pants until he could slide his hand underneath them. “Arya,” he finally muttered as he drew a finger slowly along her wet folds. She moaned in response and pressed her forehead to his chest. His own head dropped to her shoulder. The finger began to dip deeper until it was at her entrance. “You would be a wonderful mother.”

For all the pleasure that Gendry was stirring in her, Arya felt herself freeze against him. Two seconds longer and she would have been demanding an explanation. But she was never given the chance before the door flew open behind Gendry.

“Stark, I’ve had enough!” Wren announced loudly, giving the couple no time to separate before storming over to the desk and removing the chair that sat behind it. “I’m fixing the weather.” And, without another word or second look, she exited the cabin, leaving Arya on the desk with Gendry’s hand down her breeches, both panting and looking at each other with mortified eyes.

Needless to say, they quickly untangled themselves before following to the deck, though it was not lost on Arya how Gendry had slid the finger he had been using into his mouth.

Stepping onto the deck told them that they were the last to arrive. Everyone was gathered around the chair that Wren had retrieved. Even Korin was propped up against one of the masts, his arm still in a sling. Though only two days had passed since Aegon had set it, he was confident that Korin would keep the hand. The acolyte, however, was looking himself worse for the ware. Propped up close to Korin, the hollow look in his eye told Arya that he was keeping his promise on refraining from the ale.

Several sharp zips drew Arya’s attention away from the pair. The source was Oren, who was drawing a pair of shears across a sharpening stone. Most of the men was eyeing him and some were looking back and forth from the sheers to the limp sails that hung above their heads.

“Alright then.” Wren called out, approaching the group with a large bucket. It was given to Oren before she sat down in the chair herself and pulled her hair back behind her shoulders.

“Do I get the honor of knowing what on earth is going on?” Arya spoke up as Oren began to step behind the chair.

“It’s a luck breaking.” Wren announced. It wasn’t until Arya continued to look at her expectantly that she continued. “I brought the bad luck by going ashore, no thanks to you.” A harsh finger was pointed to Arya. “Winds have been dead for nearly a week, ever since we left those damned islands. Now we need to break the bad luck. Cutting hair is a good bet. Don’t worry, Oren used to shear sheep.”

“Cutting hair.”

“Yeah.” Wren’s tone indicated that she was surprised that it wasn’t common knowledge. “Any other day cutting hair at sea would be bad luck. But since we already have bad luck, doing it now will turn up some good luck.”

Arya opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it. Looking around at the men, it all made sense now. Most of them believed in this as fervently as Wren did. This was their way of life. They followed omens and superstition just as faithfully as her Father had prayed to the Old Gods. Who was she to forbid it of them, especially when they were so far from everything else they knew?

“Fine.” Arya nodded. “Go ahead.”

Wren nodded in reply, giving a small smile before leaning her head back. “Go on, take it all. It’s ‘cause of me. Gotta make it count.”

Arya watched with wide eyes as Oren grabbed Wren’s hair, seemingly without a second thought, and put his shears to it. Inch by inch he cut through it, and inch by inch fell down into the bucket that sat at his feet. Wren never moved a muscle. Eyes closed, she sat with a clenched fist on each knee. Oren worked slowly, snipping his shears carefully as he neared the scalp. When it was all said and done, she stood from the chair with hair similar to what Arya had seen on some sailors and soldiers, short on the back and sides, and slightly longer on top. Without missing a beat, the woman picked up the bucket filled with her long hair and stepped to the railing, tossing it over the side and into the still waters.

“Now, who’s next?” she then asked, setting the bucket back down behind the chair.

“Next?” this time it was Gendry who asked.

Wren smirked and slapped him on the shoulder as she came to stand beside him. “We’re all on this ship, we all have to make an offering.”

As soon as the last word left Wren’s mouth, Arya found herself taking the first steps towards the chair. She heard Gendry say her name softly, but he was the only one who uttered a sound. She could feel every single eye on her as she took her seat and pulled her hair out of the bun that it was in. Oren took longer to grab her hair than he had Wren, but he did it nonetheless. She kept her eyes open, fixed on the tall mast that she faced, but found her hands forming the same fists as Wren when her hair began tugging and releasing as the shears snipped through. Suddenly there was no more pulling. Her head felt much lighter and a hand to the back of her head found her hair to touch just above her shoulders.

“No need in taking it all, captain.” Oren said softly. He gave her a soft smile as she stood and handed her the bucket.

A tension released in her shoulders that Arya hadn’t even known was there. A smile of thanks was given before she stepped over to the railing and poured out her own hair to join Wren’s.

By the time she turned around, Sal had already taken his seat in the chair. Things moved quickly after that. One by one the crew stepped forwards to shed their locks down to the scalp, each discarding of them in the quiet sea. Even Ralph and Quint stepped away from the chair with neatly shaved heads, which Arya couldn’t resist rubbing when they came to stand beside her.

But then she looked up, and Gendry was next in line, stepping over and occupying the chair. She hadn’t thought about him. It felt a silly thing to be upset over, but she couldn’t help the pang that stuck in her chest when Oren removed the first black lock and dropped it into the dingy bucket. His wonderful hair, hair that was so satisfying to lose her fingers in, and smell when he rested his head on her chest. She said nothing, though. Just a silly thing. Nothing more. It’s just hair.

Oren finished, and Gendry suddenly looked nearly as he had when they had reunited in Winterfell. But he was tanner now, and as he stood his shoulders somehow seemed broader than when he had sat down. Arya found herself staring as he poured out his hair over the side of the boat and walked back to hand the bucket to Oren. And then he was standing in front of her, a small smirk playing at his lips. Arya heard Nester call out playfully, “So, whatcha think of him captain?”

She didn’t answer, but instead reached up to run her hand over the top of his head. Oren had made good work of it, it was soft and even, and felt nearly velvety at the brush of her fingers. His own hand rested on her side and she could take it no longer, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him into a deep kiss. Whistles and hoots, along with Nester’s “I think she approves!”, caused them to separate in laughter.

Three more were left to go, and Arya watched Korin’s thick hair be shorn. Wren helped him over to the edge and together they dumped his hair before returning him to his seat in the shade. Arya had been watching them, admiring the man’s continued strength and spirit, but then Aegon groaned loudly.

She turned around to see him slumped against the chair, face grimacing as he fought to regain strength. Sal and Willis had stepped forwards to help, but he quickly waved them off.

“I’m fine.” he insisted, taking in a couple of deep breaths before dragging himself onto the seat. “Just…tired.”

As his head dropped back against the edge of the chair, Arya felt Gendry leaning down beside her. “It’s the drink.” he whispered. “He’s so used to having it that he’s sick without it. Saw it growing up. Drunks run out of coin and just waste away in the street.”

“Will he get better?”

Gendry shrugged. “Depends. Sometimes you can give them a little bit of wine now and then. Supposed to help them get used to not having as much.”

Arya nodded, letting out a long breath. A small part of her was beginning to believe in the bad luck.

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

Night brought on a welcome relief from the hot sun. Clear stars filled the sky above to reflect on the stoic sea below. Arya circled the edge of the railing for the fifth time before deciding on once more. The lack of strong waves made her balancing practice almost a waste of time, but she continued, hating to break her routine.

The only other person out was Oren, who had the night watch. The poor man had been left to trust his hair to Sal, who sadly had no experience in working shears. Uneven tufts and bald patches littered his head, but he wouldn’t let anyone fix it, insisting that his hair grew fast and would fix itself.

Jumping down from the railing, Arya waved a curt goodbye, receiving the same from him, before she moved down into the dark hull. The faintest bit of starlight came in through the windows in her cabin. Picking out the vague shapes of furniture, Arya was able to navigate her way to the bed, where she undressed and slipped beneath the thin sheets.

Movement instantly shifted beside her and a strong arm was draped over her waist. “Good practice?” came Gendry’s sleepy voice behind her head.

“Mmhm.” she hummed as her eyes slipped closed. “Almost too easy without waves.”

“Would still be impossible for me.” he laughed softly. Her neck was more exposed now without hew long hair, and the air from his laugh tickled at it. “Even without waves I’d still fall over.”

“Best leave it to me then.”

“Gladly.” A soft kiss was placed between her shoulders. “You do so well at it.”

Arya’s mouth twisted as his words brought back the memory of what he had said earlier. Amidst the impromptu haircuts it had been all but lost to her and she had never received an explanation.

“Gendry,”

“Milady.” He was nuzzling his nose in her hair now.

“You told me earlier that I would be a good mother.”

His nuzzling stopped. “I did.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Of course I did.”

Arya almost laughed. “We may be running low on Moon Tea, but I hope you don’t mean for that to happen anytime soon.”

Gendry lay quiet for half a second before Arya felt him press a smiling kiss to her neck. “No, Arya. No, I didn’t mean that.” He was propping himself up on an elbow now, looking down with a warm smile that Arya could barely make out in the dim light. “I wouldn’t ask that of you. Not now. I just…..” he paused, raising a hand to stroke her cheek. Her own hand came up to smooth over his shaved head. “I’ve seen how you care for people. You always have. You spoke up for Korin when his hand needed attention, and you’re teaching the boys how to read when I know Quint must be giving you hell for it. Even when we were kids, Arya, you took care of us when we left Harrenhal! You’re the one who gives a shit when no one else will.”

Arya was blinking heavier now, swallowing back the tightness that was coming to her throat. It didn’t help when Gendry pressed his forehead to hers, his thumb still stroking her cheek gently.

“And if I’m ever lucky enough to hear you say that you want my children,” he pressed a loving kiss to her lips. “then I know they’ll never lack for your love.”

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_

_Voyage of The Dreamfyre into the Sunset Sea_

_Captain's Log: Day 41_

_Awoke this morning to a stiff breeze. Hardly enough to fill the sails, but enough to give us hope._

_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_


	17. Blades in the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very very sorry for the long wait on this chapter. Daylight Savings change hit me hard this year, so I guess I'm just getting old?
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting! Love you all!

Arya drew the small stone slowly down Needle’s length . The orange glow from the lanterns caught it’s steel and flashed up towards the ceiling. Yet again she drew it down the blade. And then again

Two more days had turned the stiff breeze into a strong wind which had then proceeded to blow them directly into another storm. Though this one was not near as bad as that f i rst tempest h a d been, it was still enough hard rain to drive crew below deck to the cramped hold. They were faring well, though. And Arya had distractions. She leaned back easily against a stack of crates, Gendry wolfing down his supper to her left and watching on as Willis and Big Edd sat on either side of a crate, two smooth dice and a small pile of pebbles sitting between them. It was some kind of game, she had gathered, and had seen it played more than once on their voyage. Arya couldn’t help the grin that came when Willis rolled the dice and cackled loudly before moving a few of the pebbles to his side of the crate . They had taken to betting as well, a small pile of trinkets sitting atop a nearby barrel , but it was the distraction that kept everyone all interested. Men were already lining up ready to challenge the winner of this particular round.

Arya turned her attention back to her blade. It was flipped over in her hand before she began the same maintenance to the other side of the blade. Three swipes in and she heard Gendry belch loudly beside her. The corner of her eye caught him setting his bowl down on the floor before stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“Did you get your fill?” she asked without removing her eyes from her work.

Gendry let out a deep breath. “I did.”

“Leave it to a baseborn to get full off of beans and pork.” she chuckled jokingly.

“Well, leave it to a highborn to sit polishing her steel while the rest of us lot eat with grateful bellies.” Gendry leaned over and nudged his shoulder onto her arm. Instead of pulling back away, though, Arya felt him lean further into her and rest his head on her shoulder.

“You’ve had that sword a good while now.” he commented softly.

“I’m never losing it again.” Arya stated as fact. “It’s staying with me until I die.”

She felt Gendry nuzzle her shoulder. A simple turn of her head was all it took to connect their lips in a touch that was both familiar and still very entrancing. Needle’s point dropped to the floor as Gendry sat up a little straighter to deepen the kiss. But, just as soon as Arya was willing to put aside her weapon, Gendry broke the embrace and returned to his previous position at her side.

“Sorry.” he muttered in a voice low enough so that only she was sure to hear. “You just look really good with a blade.”

Arya almost felt a little bad for the sputter that came out of her mouth. Feeling Gendry press his face into her arm, she leaned down until her lips were brushing the top of his shaved hair.

“Gendry, I want to have you every time I see you with your hammer.” she whispered, and smirked when she felt his low groan reverberate into her own body.

With that, she turned back to finish on the blade, letting herself get lost in the motions while her mind wandered off to what her and Gendry would do once they were alone in her cabin. She was so entranced by the thoughts that it wasn't until Wren's chin rested on her shoulder that she fully processed the woman's presence behind her.

"You said your brother gave you that blade?" Wren asked, clearly indifferent in occupying Arya's space.

"He did." Arya drew the stone yet again across the length.

"But you didn't use it to kill the Ice King."

"Night King." Arya corrected. "And no, I didn't."

"Cause it wasn't that Targaryen steel? Or dragonglass?"

Arya chuckled, causing Wren's chin to bounce on her shoulder. "Right."

Wren hummed in acknowledgement and watched as Arya drew an oiled rag along the blade. "You still any good with it?"

"I disarmed Tom with it, didn't I?"

Wren snorted out a laughter before removing her head from Arya's shoulder. "Well, captain, would you mind giving me some practice as well?"

Arya perked up her head at that, turning around to where Wren had taken her seat on a crate. "Spar with you?"

Wren nodded slowly, a grin coming to her cheeks.

"Down here?" Arya gestured to the cramped hold around them, filled with cargo and men who could very much be injured by the act.

"Of course not." Wren rolled her eyes, standing up. "Up top."

"But it's raining."

"Well, to begin with, you don't always get to pick the weather you fight in. You should know that." Wren stated, stepping towards the small corridor, forcing Arya to nudge Gendry off of her arm and follow. By then they had gained the attention of most of the crew, who Arya noticed were standing as well to follow.

"And also," Wren called out a little louder, disappearing into her bunk room and stepping out seconds later wielding two axes. "I want to see for myself just how good you really are."

A heavy rain-soaked Arya's clothes nearly the instant she stepped out on deck. The wind was almost nonexistent, making for easy waves around them. But the added water made the boards below their feet slick and the large drops made keeping one’s eyes open difficult.

Arya felt her wet hair hang heavy down her neck. Wren's nearly bare head, however, was held high as the two moved to face each other. Somewhere behind her Arya could hear the crew gathering and making soft comments. She was nearly sure that she caught one of them mention something about taking bets.

"Alright, Stark!" Wren called out over the loud drum of rain. "First to draw blood!"

Arya didn't reply, but instead turned to move sideface, tucking one arm behind her back and taking in a deep a breath as the rain would allow. The blade was brought to her face before lowering it in skilled stance.

Wren, however, was not so formal, stretching her shoulders and twirling both axes in her hands. It had never occurred to Arya that the woman would know how to fight. 'But of course she would. What seasoned sailor wouldn’t know?'

It was Wren who made the first move, moving quickly across the deck with a loud cry. For a moment, before their steel touched, Arya almost thought it would be easy with such a bold opponent. It wasn't.

Two axes moved quicker than one blade and Arya found herself on her edge as she tried to keep up with both. One would be deflected, leaving barely enough time to move her blade into position for the other. It didn't take long for the cold to leave her muscles in all of the movement. The rain, though, that's where Arya was finding her trouble. It stung in the eyes and made it hard to focus on everything at once.

But the weather be damned when it came to Wren. She may as well have been fighting on a sunny day in the middle of a tourney field. And it was then that it clicked for Arya, this was Wren's element. This was what she knew best. She had probably even fought off true enemies in weather similar to this. It was all Arya could do to keep on the defensive, let alone try any offence with the relentless axe blades swarming around her. She was being backed up, and before she knew it she was slipping backwards and into one of the masts.

But then she saw her chance. Wren rushed, granting Arya a mere second to slip underneath one of Wren's arms and catch her wrist with her hilt. The axe in that hand was knocked to the deck, and before Wren was able to dive for it she was forced to defend against Needle's smooth swipes.

They were even now in the pouring rain. Shouts from the crew carried over to their ears and the two found themselves grinning through heavy pants as their sparring carried on. Arya darted under and around Wren's wild swings, but wild swings worked in her favor to block Needle just in time before it could meet with skin.

But then with a lurch of the ship Arya was slipping. She landed hard on her back and nearly lost her breath from it. Wren was above her in an instant, axe held firmly....and Arya barely had enough time to bring Needle up to end the spar, it's point slicing across the center of Wren's chest.

Wren froze above her and looked down to see a small trickle of blood seep through her wet shirt as the crew started up a chant of "Captain Stark!"

A good-natured smile was exchanged between the women as Wren extended a hand to pull Arya firmly to her feet.

"Well met." Wren grinned, arm draping around Arya's shoulders as they made their way back across the deck.

“I’m sorry about that.” Arya apologized, gesturing to the red stain on her first mate’s shirt.

Wren just laughed as they stepped below deck. “It’s an honor! Now I can tell everyone that I fought the hero Arya Stark and that she chose to leave me alive with only a scar to remember her by!”

Moving back into the crowded hold, Arya took in the sight of her crew sorting out the bets that had been made and was rather pleased to see that the majority seemed to have bet on her. Gendry seemed to have resumed his previous seat. But as Arya began to step towards him, she found herself bumping hard into a body.

A water skin dropped to the floor below as the man scrambled to keep his one handed hold on a bowl of the bean and pork mixture.

“Sorry!” she called out, dropping down to pick up the water skin before the man could. Standing back up gave her the pleasant discovery of Korin smiling as he mouthed “sorry” as well.

“Have you not eaten yet?” She made sure to let him see her face when she asked.

Korin nodded his head, but gestured back towards the corridor that held the bunk rooms. Then it clicked. That was why she hadn’t taken note of him, he had been seeing to Aegon.

Korin balanced the bowl atop his injured hand in the sling and reached out for the water skin. But Arya shook her head and gestured back in the same direction. Korin smiled shyly and, almost hesitantly , nodded. He kept for himself the bowl to hold and kept his head down as he led the way .

Arya was hit with the stale stench of old vomit as she stepped in to the tight room behind him. The lantern that sat beside the bed cast a shadow on a face that almost didn’t seem human. Aegon’s eyes were more sunken than she had last seen, and his lips were dry and beginning to crack. Limbs hung limp over the edge of the bed where he lay on his side and he wore only loose breeches, so a sheen of sweat glanced off of his skin in the dim light. She had known that he was in rough shape, but she inwardly wanted to stab herself for not checking in on him properly.

But, while Arya held back, Korin went right to work , setting the bowl down on a chest before taking the water skin from Arya. With a curt smile to her he stepped over to kneel down beside the low frame . Using his good hand, he pulled the cork out of the water skin with his teeth before gently holding it to Aegon’s lips. For a moment it didn’t look as though he was going to respond, until he finally raised his hand and slowly helped Korin tilt the skin upwards until a slow trickle of water could be seen dripping out the side of his mouth. It was evident that every motion took twice as much strength as it should for the man.

Compassion stirred in her heart, as well as fondness for the man who chose to put himself at such great risk to make himself a better person.

“Do you need anything else?” Arya asked softly. Aegon never turned his eyes to her but shook his head gently as it was returned to his pillow.

It was almost tender, the way that Aegon looked up at Korin as the young man tended to him. The water skin set aside, Korin wasted no time in taking a nearby cloth to the drips of sweat that had formed on Aegon’s face. Arya couldn’t tell if the wetness in Aegon’s eyes was from the withdrawals or otherwise, but she chose that time to move back silently towards the door, turning in time to catch Aegon’s raising up to hold Korin’s.

She rounded the door frame and had just decided to try and find Gendry again…… but was pulled back into the room when she suddenly heard muffled thumping, followed shortly by the shattering of glass.

By the time she stepped back into the room there was a small flame growing beside the bed.

On top of the bed Aegon was violently convulsing, no doubt the reason for the lantern being knocked over. Korin was nearly sitting astride him and trying desperately to hold the man down with his one good arm.

“Help!” was all Arya could yell as she dived into the room. A blanket was pulled off of the bunk and she began beating it onto the growing flame.

It was chaos. Utter chaos. Wren’s loud commands suddenly joined in the chorus of panicked noises. Out of the corner of her eye, Arya could see someone else joining Korin on the bunk to aid in holding Aegon still. Anyone else would have started praying at that time, but in all honesty, Arya wasn’t sure which god would listen, so she chose instead to focus her mind on thumping the blanket down on the slowly depleting flame.

Then suddenly she was wet and very cold. Jumping back, Arya barely missed being doused with another bucket of cold sea water that was being thrown on the fire. It was quenched in seconds as two more buckets were carried in and poured out.

And, just like that, it was over. At some point Aegon had stopped convulsing and was laying motionless on the bunk, chest moving ever so gently as Korin held his head in his lap and stroked his hair.

He was moved to another bunk room after that, one that wasn’t charred across one wall, and Korin indicated that he would be taking watch should another fit overtake the acolyte.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Arya felt herself wilting as she shuffled into her cabin. The door was kicked closed behind her and her soaking shirt was soon removed and cast into a corner. Catching the light of the low lantern sitting on her desk, she quickly stepped over and extinguished it. As the darkness settled around her, she let herself breathe a little easier, grounding her mind in the rocking of the ship and the silent space around her.

Palms rested flat atop the desk and she hung her head low. The still air of the cabin landed easily on her bare back. It was the first time she had felt this way on her ship, the pressing charge in the atmosphere of dread waiting for her around some dark corner. And there was no-where to run this time.

Arya felt movement behind her and sensed the soft close of the door.

"Arya?" came Gendry's soft call. "You'right?"

Instinct told her to nod and deny what she felt, maybe even turn around and pull him to the bed in distraction. But she couldn't, and she shook her head.

Soft footfalls brought his presence behind her and his large hands smoothed down her bare shoulders, trailing down her back until they rested easily on her hips. "What is it, Arry?" he asked with a kiss to her spine. His voice was low and worried, and it nearly made tears fall.

Arya shook her head once more and found herself pulling away from him. It was as though her mind was looking for something, anything, to run from. "We shouldn't." she said softly, still choosing not to look at him.

She could practically hear his mouth opening and closing behind her before finally speaking. "Ar.....A....Arya.......uh..ok." He breathed out through his nose. "Will you tell me why?"

"Aegon's been near death for two days now for all I know and I did nothing." she rushed out. "I was eating and sparring and laughing and fucking you and all the while I've been too comfortable. I'm captain. My crew is my responsibility. My family." Arya finally turned around, the dim light from the window only affording a silhouetted view of his face. She could see his shoulders hunkering, though, and he remained silent.

"This wouldn't have happened if I had been paying attention. I... I don't need to be distracted anymore." she said a little softer.

Gendry's form made no movement at first. Then, she finally saw his head drop as he stepped around her, uttering a gruff "Sorry to distract." as he passed towards the door.

The soft click of the latch seconds later told her that she was alone. Tears prickled at her eyes as she finished stripping of her wet clothes. A small part of her wished that he would return as she slipped beneath the blankets and curled up into herself. But, in the end, she drifted to sleep alone and turned restlessly amidst dreams of snow-covered mountains and wood smoke.


	18. Distant Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already know that I'm going to get scolded by some of you for apologizing.....but all the same just let me say that I'm so sorry for leaving this fic for so long.
> 
> In all honesty, I felt stuck and I really didn't feel as though this story was as in demand as some of my other works. So it got pushed to the side, and as a result I ended up pushing myself into a writer's block with it. This chapter isn't long at all, but it's something. And I hope that it's enough to let you guys know that I'm trying to pick it back up and make it into the story that I've envisioned it to be from the beginning.
> 
> To everyone who's still with me: thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Arya let herself lean heavy on the railing, feeling the sun baked wood burn against her skin. Two more weeks of gentle sailing had passed them by. Two weeks of only enough wind to keep them moving at a leisurely pace over the rolling waves. Arya felt as though the crip slap of the waves filled her entire life now. No where could she go without hearing their gentle song, and everything she did was done in timing with their rocks and jolts. They rocked her to sleep each night, they kept her sharp as she trained each morning, and their soft rhythm had even kept the pace for when she and Gendry would...

Arya shook her head and squinted through the late-noon sun. From her place at the helm, Arya looked down over the movements of her crew. Some worked, at least as much as was expected for daily chores. But the rest had congregated near the center mast nearly an hour prior.

Nester stood near the crate that had been placed in the center of the small crowd, arms waving dramatically as he sought to work up the men. “Alright, men! Come back around! This next match is surely not to be missed!” He placed a hand on the shoulder of the man to his right, doing the same to the man on his left. “Our contender, coming all the way from the haunted ruins of Tumbleton, the mighty Daemon!”

A little less than half of the men gave a cheer as Daemon raised up a confident fist. Doubt could be seen on his face, though, as Nester turned to announce the thus undefeated champion. “And the returning victor! Let’s see if Daemon can stand against the unstoppable strength of The Bull!”

Arya’s eyes darted to Gendry’s face, dark eyes looking wearily over towards his opponent. Like most of the men, he wore only a thin shirt and loose linen breeches. But, unlike the others, Arya knew what lay underneath those paper-thin garments, and she bit her lip at the thought. He had kept away from her quarters since that day when she had sent him away. He had hardly even spoken to her during that time, save for when necessary. And every night since then she had lain alone under her sheets wishing fruitlessly that he would come to reclaim his place on the mattress beside her.

He wouldn’t, though. She knew that without a doubt. She had been serious, after all, and had thrown herself into minding her crew and her ship. Aegon had regained his strength since that day, much thanks to the help of Korin, and the two men had grown much closer as a result. The thought made Arya turn her head to where they sat up on the forecastle, pressed close enough that korin’s head was resting on Aegon’s shoulder as they looked through a book together. She wouldn’t deny them their affections; couldn’t deny them that, not when she had allowed that for herself.

_ ‘Not anymore.’ _ she thought, half in bitterness. _ ‘Not for me.’ _

Loud yells and cheers pulled her eyes back down to the crowd on the deck. Daemon and Gendry had both taken a side of the crate and placed an elbow each atop it. The hands were clasped and the two men stared at each other, waiting for Nester to drop the kerchief that he held above them. Arya rested her chin on the railing, waiting as well.

It was dropped. Gendry let out a grunt and threw the weight of his shoulder against Daemon’s. The other man barely had time to react and stopped their arms just before Gendry had slammed them down into the wood. It was hardly enough, though, and the men cheered louder as Gendry slowly overcame Daemon’s strength and shoved his arm down to hit against the wood. Yells erupted, some in victory and some in anguish as bets were exchanged and men were forced to part with their coins and trinkets. Arya herself couldn’t help but smile, eyes fixed on Gendry as he rubbed his wrist, taking a seat down against the large mast.

But then there was more yelling, different yelling, from higher up on the rigging. The captain leaned back, watching as Little Edd descended down from the crow’s nest, nearly catching himself in the ropes as he worked his limbs in a hurried frenzy. 

“Land!” his shriek finally came loud enough to hear. “I see land!”

Arya was down from the helm before any of the men could process what had been said, and by the time they were beginning to celebrate, she was already progressing up the rigging faster than Edd could move downward. As she met with him, he frantically dug into his pouch, retrieving the bronze scope and pressing it into her hand just in time for her to pass him on the ropes.

Cold ocean air whipped her hair into her cheeks. It stung, but she continued upwards, up into the pale sky above and beyond.

The crow’s nest was little more than a small wooden box fastened atop the highest arms, but it would be alie to say that she did not feel just a little bit grateful for the security that it offered. Gendry would have never been able to fit inside of it properly, even if he had somehow mustered the courage to climb that high. But Arya settled into it comfortably and braced herself against one of it’s walls. The scope was lifted to her eyes, looking far into the west. 

The same waves that she could feel stretched outward before her. On and on they spread, far out to the horizon. Arya squinted against the sunlight and peered farther.

Small bumps rose out, thin and irregular against the horizon line. It would have been missed if not for a watchful eye, but there it was. 

Land.

New land.

Further from anything that even the maester’s knew, further from Westeros than most would dare to dream of going.

Now it was there for Arya Stark to see.

********~~~~~~~~********

“...aaaaand that’s the horrid sorrid tale…..of the Titan and his briiide!”

Arya cringed and took another sip of her ale, thankful that Wren had yet to strike up another verse of the bizarre song. Sitting alone in her quarters had promised to be less eventful than the celebrations that were still raging above deck. Arya had allowed more strong drinks to be made available and Potts had filled them all with the last of the ship’s pork and potatoes. Her solitude had changed, though, when Wren had decided that her desk was the perfect place to let Korin attempt a new tattoo on her shoulder.

“And you’re sure about this?” Arya asked, watching as Korin’s maimed hand struggled to hold onto the long ivory pin.

“Never more certain.” Wren slurred. The first mate was slumped over onto the desk, one shoulder of her shirt pulled away to reveal a patch of bare skin. “Gotta give that hand some work. Don’t want it to grow stiff and useless.” She looked up and made some signs to Korin, who nodded in agreement before turning back to concentrate on his work. 

Arya leaned back in her seat and turned to look back out the large window, now opened to let in the cool evening air. The setting sun was just starting to give off it’s last colors. Purple and orange danced together above the black waves below.

And beyond all of it sat the new land.

“What do you think we’ll find there?” Arya thought out loud as she turned back to the siblings.

“People, most likely.” Wren shrugged. “Always people everywhere. Unless they aren’t people. What do you think the chances are that we’ll find people who look like big horses? Or giant beetles?”

“Dunno. There’s wolves there, though.”

Wren lifted her head up and wrinkled her brows. “Wolves? How in seven hells do you know that?”

“I just do.” Arya affirmed, looking into her cup.  _ ‘There’s also a wight.’ _ But she kept that thought to herself. “We’ll wait a day or so. Get closer before we make our plans.”

Instead of words, Arya got a loud grunt as a response. Korin had begun his work, it seemed. Looking back up, she found him hunched over his sister’s back and trying very hard to hold the pin still as he tapped it quickly into her skin. Every minute or so he would straighten back up and dip the tool into a small ink pot that sat in the desk. The act was almost mesmerizing to watch, and even though Korin’s hand still trembled against the strain, it wasn’t long before a small compass point began to take shape against her skin, the needle marking West.

“Wren,” Arya spoke up. “Would you ask Korin to do one for me next?”

Wincing as Korin seemed to hit a nerve under her skin, Wren smirked and nodded. “Would make a nice surprise for Bull to see.”

“It wouldn’t be for him.” Arya huffed.

“But one day it will be.”

“Oh? And you’re so sure of this how?”

“Cause anyone who loves as much as you two won’t be able to stop.”

  
Wren’s words came slurred and jumbled, but Arya still pondered at them. A small part of her hopes that it was true, but an even bigger part of her wondered if they could ever be true.  _ ‘Probably not.’ _ she finally decided.


	19. Ashore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that I'm trying to do better at update this fic!
> 
> I'm gifting this chapter as a late birthday present to obsessivewriter. Angela, you've always been an outstanding friend and a loyal supporter to this fic. It means the world to me and I don't know if I would be the writer that I am without you! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The first thing that Arya noticed was the birds. The gulls especially looked so much like the ones that plagued the docks back in Westeros, but there were others that stood out as well. Ralph especially seemed fascinated by a large type of hawk that curiously perched up on the higher mast arms, looking down as the young boy eagerly tried to sketch it on a scrap of paper.

There were other new and odd things to see as well, such as the faint twinkles of light that could be seen at night coming from the distant shore, or the new types of fish that the men were catching in their nets.

They had all wanted to embark immediately after finding the new land, but Arya had kept a firm hold back.

"This place is entirely foreign to us!" she had stated one day, having to raise her voice amongst all of the other shouting and bickering.

"Which is why we need to get to that shore!" Little Edd had grumbled. "I'm tired of seeing the same damn ship."

"Then look out there instead." With gritted teeth, she swept an arm out towards the shoreline. "Make use of this time and observe." 

And when he had cursed and spat on the deck, she added with a jerk of her head upwards: "For that, you can spend the night in the nest." 

No one had taken issue with the stay of exploration after that. She couldn't blame them really, she herself was itching to see the new land with her own eyes. But, it was hard to tell the others that she had, in fact, seen much of the new land with another's eyes.

The wolf dreams hadn't stopped. In fact, they were so strong now that Arya often woke from them with a phantom rawness in her feet from all of the walking, and a catch in the same hip that the wolf limped on. She was still no closer to answers than when she had first seen through this new wolf's eyes, but at least now she could find the advantage to it. During one dream she could have sworn that she caught the scent of the sea, and had been about to wander in it's direction when another scent had brushed through her nostrils. The scent of man. And so she had darted away, unwilling yet to face those who lived there amongst the thick trees and high hills. But she was ready to see more, to see it with her own eyes.

It was on a bright morning, though, when only a dusting of clouds covered the blue sky above, that Arya had announced that they would finally depart.

Arya took her time in her cabin, turning slowly and gazing around at everything around her. Her papers were packed into her sack, as well as the small compass and oddments that she thought would be helpful. Clothes were shoved into another bag. No one knew how long they would stay there. Arya didn't even know if they would ever turn sails to return to the east. 

The thought made her almost sad, but there was no time for it now. There were new shores to stand upon.

Gathering her things, Arya stroked her hand over Needle's hilt. She had carried it so far, for so long. What more would she use it for?

A shout of laughter above broke her from her thoughts, but when she shoved open then cabin door she stopped her movements yet again.

Gendry was standing there, freezing his steps as soon as she did. His own pack was slung across his shoulder as he came up from the hold.

"You're coming then?" She finally asked, nodding to the large sack.

"I am." He replied, voice low and hesitant. Some of the men had volunteered to stay with the ship, a discussion that Arya had not taken lightly. And she would have been a liar if she said that he had not come to her mind in regards to who would accompany her to the shore. There were still too many nights where she had wrestled, both body and mind, to fight off the urge to call him back to her side. He would come, she knew he would. But she wouldn’t treat him that way.

She turned her eyes back to his. "Good. I'm glad for it."

For almost a moment, she thought to see a softness come to his eyes. It was soon gone, though, and replaced by his standard blockade of indifference. "Told you I'd follow you."

"Again, I'm glad for it."

Gendry turned before she could tell anymore from his face, leading the way into the sunlight of the deck.

The boats had been made ready. In the morning wind they swung from their ropes and creaked gently as supplies were loaded onto them.

Wren was on the move, as expected, barking orders and darting between the men. "Secure that as tight as you can!" she shouted and ran to Lorin. 

Arya watched the first mate take hold of a rope and help the man in tying it. Ralph darted in front of her, pulling her attention in the direction that he ran. He tossed the bag that he was holding up to Quint, who had himself scrambled up into one of the lifeboats.

“Woah! Hold up there, lads!” Willis warned, catching Quint by the collar of his canvas shirt and pulling him out of the boat. “And just what do you two mean by this?”

“We’re coming along!” Quint grunted, writhing himself out of the man’s grasp.

“By whose permission?”

“By our own!” Ralph growled. He made to run past Willis, but was easily caught and tossed back beside his brother.

“And don’t you think you should be askin’ the head lady there?” Willis pointed a thick finger towards Arya.

Taking that as her cue, she stepped closer, hands grasped tightly behind her back and a stern eye looking down.

Ralph turned around and watched her approach, only to scowl and say, “I’m my own man. I don’t need a mother giving me orders.”

Arya’s hand shot out at that, taking the boy by the ear and pulling him up to her face. “And what about taking orders from your captain?”

The boy scrunched his face in discomfort and danced his feet around before finally consenting. “May we come along, captain?”

She answered first with a smile, and then a playful shove towards the small boat after she had released his ear. “Very well. I’ll allow it.”

Willis let out a sound of disapproval as the two watched the boys load what few possessions they had into the lifeboat. “Pardon me saying so, captain,” he sighed, “but you’re too soft on em sometimes.”

“It wasn’t my father or my mother who hardened me.” Arya said simply, returning her hands behind her back. “And it won’t be their captain who hardens them.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply, but quickly turned and raised her voice. “I hope those of you who have decided to go or stay are confident in your choices.” Everyone above deck slowed their work to turn head and listen. “We don’t plan on returning to the ship for some time.”

Arya stepped deliberately towards Nester, placing her hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Wren will be joining me on shore, so I leave charge of the ship to Nester Wylde. Those of you who will stay with him, obey him as you would me.”

A soft round of agreements followed at that, but Arya wanted to be sure. With a step to the side, she clasped hands with the first who would stay. “Little Edd,” she said looking into his eyes. “Will you keep my ship?”

He nodded without hesitation. “Aye, I will.”

The next was Daemon, who was asked the same and who returned with the same answer.

It was repeated for them all: Potts, Lorin, Bern, and Sal. Seven to leave aboard, and she trusted them all.

There wasn’t much left to say after that, and before another hour had passed she was settled in one of the small boats beside Willis and Wren.

It started with a jerk at first, but slowly the boat lowered down into the folding waters. Arya took in a deep breath and turned her head, looking away from her ship and towards the new land. Dark green trees brushed their branches together in the breeze, and she could almost imagine them whispering softly to one another, passing questions and theories on who the newcomers were. Could they know her? Could they have been told of the ones who sailed so far and for so long just to walk on those shores? Perhaps the gulls that circled overhead had told them, or maybe the man with ice blue eyes who waited in the cave.

Wren and Willis took up their oars and dipped them down into the gentle waves. With every pass, back and forth and back again, it brought Arya closer to where she wished to be. She could almost taste it, almost feel it beneath her feet, and she could stand it no longer when they got close enough for her to jump out of the ship and wade the rest of the way. The waves came in at her back and pushed her even faster. Her legs pumped heavily through the brine. Once or twice she nearly tripped on hidden things that rested in the sand, but firmly ignored the concerned shouts from those in the boats. It was calling to her now, this new land, this horizon that had lay hidden in the distance for too long.

And then her feet were stepping out of the waves. Arya stopped, she had to then, because now she was no longer with the sea. Now, she was on the land of whomever this belonged to, and it felt only wrong to come undeclared. The others were still making their way in, so she knew that her words would be heard by no one else but for whom they were intended. 

She dropped slowly to her knees, waves lapping gently behind her and the gulls gossiping overhead. “I am Arya Stark, from the lands in the East.” she began softly, speaking into the dense trees before her. “My companions and I know nothing of you, but we will stay and learn if you will have us.”

There was no reply, and Arya hadn’t expected one. The Old Gods were always silent when prayers or offerings were made, and reason told her that these who resided here must be no different. But still, there was a calmness in her chest that she had done right. It was there that she stayed, even as the sounds of oars and voices drew closer still, until she heard the crunch of boots hit the sand behind her. 

Arya stood and turned in time to see Willis jumping out of the boat, grabbing the ropes and pulling it further up onto the shore. Aegon soon did the same with his boat, as did Cole and Gendry, until four boats sat side by side on the beach.

Wren jumped out of her ship and immediately threw herself onto the sand. “Bless my father's balls! We made it!” she laughed out, spreading her arms and digging her fingers down into the damp sand.

“Oh you knew we would.” Arya laughed as well, kicking some sand in Wren’s direction.

The other woman rolled over just in time and pushed herself up from the ground. “I did! But it’s one thing to just know something. Here we are actually doing it!” she let out a deep breath and looked around. “So, what to do first.”

“First we’ll be setting up a camp.” came Willis’ reply. Arya turned towards him, finding that he and Gendry had already begun to offload the boat with the bags and crates that it had carried.

“I agree.” nodded Arya. Her gaze was then pulled to her Dreamfyre. It bobbed peacefully out on the waves, its tall masts looking like small sprigs that poked up towards the clouds. “We won’t be returning to the ship unless necessary. It would be best to already set up shelter, and to find water.”

Four hours later and they had done just that. Two shelters had been fashioned out of logs and branches and a roaring fire was fed from wood gathered in the forest. Cole and Big Edd had been the lucky pair chosen to venture out into the thick trees in search of water. They had failed to find any, but had instead returned with two rabbits and tales of feeling as though they were watched.

The full stomach and the long day had made Arya far more tired than she had expected to be. Leaning back against the dead tree, she turned her eyes from the crackling fire and up to the stars above. It was oddly comforting to still see some of the same shapes stretched out across the black sky. There was the Crone’s Lantern to the north, and the Cracked Shield sitting right above where her ship would be anchored. But there were others as well, new stars that held strange shapes. She had just started to entertain the thought of trying to map them when rustling to her left pulled her back down to the ground. It was Gendry, laying out his blankets and making his bed several feet away. He never looked over at her as he made himself as comfortable as possible on the sand and grass, but Arya hoped that he could feel her eyes on him.

********~~~~~~~~********

_ She missed Nymeria. The direwolf was much more sharp and feral. Arya had never feared when she roamed in her skin. But this new wolf was leaner, and with the limp that came from her hip she would never hope to catch the doe that stood warily in the moonlight.  _

_ Arya crouched lower into the underbrush, breathing in deep the scent of fear that carried through on the wind. She had yet to feed with this wolf, and the wolf blood in her was beginning to long for the pleasant tang of fresh meat. _

_ An urge came through her senses, though, and against all other instincts, Arya lifted her head to let out a low howl. She felt it’s vibrations in the air around her head, and down through to the dirt beneath her paws. _

_ The deer ran as expected, but had not made it out of Arya’s sight before a flash of brown and tan came upon it, followed by another rush of grey. _

_ a trotted towards the fallen animal, and it took little time for her to see what had overtaken it. _

_ Two other wolves backed away from the carcass. Both were males by their heavy scent, and both stood taller than she, but still they stepped back, leaving the meal for her to have the first taste. ‘My sons.’ came the unexpected thought. And before she lowered her head to begin her feast, the fields of her vision caught the movement of many more wolves stepping out of the shadows. _

_ ‘My pack.’ _

**Author's Note:**

> No matter when you read this fic, please know that I will always love receiving comments! This library has no late fees!


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